Twilight Land
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Howard Pyle >> Twilight Land
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This is what had happened to them:
Joseph had sat and sat where John and Jacob Stuck had left him on
his box of silver money, until a band of thieves had come along
and robbed him of it all. John had carried away his pockets and
his hat full of gold, and had lived like a prince as long as it
had lasted. Then he had gone back for more, but in the meantime
some rogue had come along and had stolen it all. Yes; that was
what had happened, and now they were as poor as ever.
Jacob Stuck welcomed them and brought them in and made much of
them.
Well, the truth is truth, and this is it: It is better to have a
little bit of good luck to help one in what one undertakes than
to have a chest of silver or a chest of gold.
"And now for your story, holy knight," said Fortunatus to St.
George "for twas your turn, only for this fair lady who came in
before you."
"Aye, aye," said the saint; "I suppose it was, in sooth, my turn.
Ne'th'less, it gives me joy to follow so close so fair and lovely
a lady." And as he spoke he winked one eye at Cinderella,
beckoned towards her with his cup of ale, and took a deep draught
to her health. "I shall tell you," said he, as soon as he had
caught his breath again, "a story about an angel and a poor man
who travelled with him, and all the wonderful things the poor man
saw the angel do."
"That," said the Blacksmith who made Death sit in his pear-tree
until the wind whistled through his ribs--"that, methinks, is a
better thing to tell for a sermon than a story."
"Whether or no that shall be so," said St. George, "you shall
presently hear for yourselves."
He took another deep draught of ale, and then cleared his throat.
"Stop a bit, my friend," said Ali Baba. "What is your story
about?"
"It is," said St. George, "about--
The Fruit of Happiness
Once upon a time there was a servant who served a wise man, and
cooked for him his cabbage and his onions and his pot-herbs and
his broth, day after day, time in and time out, for seven years.
In those years the servant was well enough contented, but no one
likes to abide in the same place forever, and so one day he took
it into his head that he would like to go out into the world to
see what kind of a fortune a man might make there for himself.
"Very well," says the wise man, the servant's master; "you have
served me faithfully these seven years gone, and now that you ask
leave to go you shall go. But it is little or nothing in the way
of money that I can give you, and so you will have to be content
with what I can afford. See, here is a little pebble, and its
like is not to be found in the seven kingdoms, for whoever holds
it in his mouth can hear while he does so all that the birds and
the beasts say to one another. Take it--it is yours, and, if you
use it wisely, it may bring you a fortune.
The servant would rather have had the money in hand than the
magic pebble, but, as nothing better was to be had, he took the
little stone, and, bidding his master good-bye, trudged out into
the world, to seek his fortune. Well, he jogged on and on, paying
his way with the few pennies he had saved in his seven years of
service, but for all of his travelling nothing of good happened
to him until, one morning, he came to a lonely place where there
stood a gallows, and there he sat him down to rest, and it is
just in such an unlikely place as this that a man's best chance
of fortune comes to him sometimes.
As the servant sat there, there came two ravens flying, and lit
upon the cross-beam overhead. There they began talking to one
another, and the servant popped the pebble into his mouth to hear
what they might say.
"Yonder is a traveller in the world," said the first raven.
"Yes," said the second, "and if he only knew how to set about it,
his fortune is as good as made."
"How is that so?" said the first raven.
"Why, thus," said the second. "If he only knew enough to follow
yonder road over the hill, he would come by-and-by to a stone
cross where two roads meet, and there he would find a man
sitting. If he would ask it of him, that man would lead him to
the garden where the fruit of happiness grows."
"The fruit of happiness!" said the first raven, "and of what use
would the fruit of happiness be to him?"
"What use? I tell you, friend, there is no fruit in the world
like that, for one has only to hold it in one's hand and wish,
and whatever one asks for one shall have."
You may guess that when the servant understood the talk of the
ravens he was not slow in making use of what he heard. Up he
scrambled, and away he went as fast as his legs could carry him.
On and on he travelled, until he came to the cross-roads and the
stone cross of which the raven spoke, and there, sure enough, sat
the traveller. He was clad in a weather-stained coat, and he wore
dusty boots, and the servant bade him good-morning.
How should the servant know that it was an angel whom he beheld,
and not a common wayfarer?
"Whither away, comrade," asked the traveller.
"Out in the world," said the servant, "to seek my fortune. And
what I want to know is this--will you guide me to where I can
find the fruit of happiness?"
"You ask a great thing of me," said the other; "nevertheless,
since you do ask it, it is not for me to refuse, though I may
tell you that many a man has sought for that fruit, and few
indeed have found it. But if I guide you to the garden where the
fruit grows, there is one condition you must fulfil: many strange
things will happen upon our journey between here and there, but
concerning all you see you must ask not a question and say not a
word. Do you agree to that?"
"Yes," said the servant, "I do."
"Very well, said his new comrade; "then let us be jogging, for I
have business in the town to-night, and the time is none too long
to get there."
So all the rest of that day they journeyed onward together,
until, towards evening, they came to a town with high towers and
steep roofs and tall spires. The servant's companion entered the
gate as though he knew the place right well, and led the way up
one street and down another, until, by-and-by, they came to a
noble house that stood a little apart by itself, with gardens of
flowers and fruit-trees all around it. There the travelling
companion stopped, and, drawing out a little pipe from under his
jacket, began playing so sweetly upon it that he made one's heart
stand still to listen to the music.
Well, he played and played until, by-and-by, the door opened, and
out came a serving-man. "Ho, piper!" said he, "would you like to
earn good wages for your playing?"
"Yes," said the travelling companion, "I would, for that is why I
came hither."
"Then follow me," said the servant, and thereupon the travelling
companion tucked away his pipe and entered, with the other at his
heels.
The house-servant led the way from one room to another, each
grander than the one they left behind, until at last he came to a
great hall where dozens of servants were serving a fine feast.
But only one man sat at table--a young man with a face so
sorrowful that it made a body's heart ache to look upon him. "Can
you play good music, piper?" said he.
"Yes," said the piper, "that I can, for I know a tune that can
cure sorrow. But before I blow my pipe I and my friend here must
have something to eat and drink, for one cannot play well with an
empty stomach."
"So be it," said the young man; "sit down with me and eat and
drink."
So the two did without second bidding, and such food and drink
the serving-man had never tasted in his life before. And while
they were feasting together the young man told them his story,
and why it was he was so sad. A year before he had married a
young lady, the most beautiful in all that kingdom, and had
friends and comrades and all things that a man could desire in
the world. But suddenly everything went wrong; his wife and he
fell out and quarrelled until there was no living together, and
she had to go back to her old home. Then his companions deserted
him, and now he lived all alone.
"Yours is a hard case," said the travelling companion, "but it is
not past curing." Thereupon he drew out his pipes and began to
play, and it was such a tune as no man ever listened to before.
He played and he played, and, after a while, one after another of
those who listened to him began to get drowsy. First they winked,
then they shut their eyes, and then they nodded until all were as
dumb as logs, and as sound asleep as though they would never
waken again. Only the servant and the piper stayed awake, for the
music did not make them drowsy as it did the rest. Then, when all
but they two were tight and fast asleep, the travelling companion
arose, tucked away his pipe, and, stepping up to the young man,
took from off his finger a splendid ruby ring, as red as blood
and as bright as fire, and popped the same into his pocket. And
all the while the serving-man stood gaping like a fish to see
what his comrade was about. "Come," said the travelling
companion, "it is time we were going," and off they went,
shutting the door behind them.
As for the serving-man, though he remembered his promise and said
nothing concerning what he had beheld, his wits buzzed in his
head like a hive of bees, for he thought that of all the ugly
tricks he had seen, none was more ugly than this--to bewitch the
poor sorrowful young man into a sleep, and then to rob him of his
ruby ring after he had fed them so well and had treated them so
kindly.
But the next day they jogged on together again until by-and-by
they came to a great forest. There they wandered up and down till
night came upon them and found them still stumbling onward
through the darkness, while the poor serving-man's flesh quaked
to hear the wild beasts and the wolves growling and howling
around them.
But all the while the angel--his travelling companion--said never
a word; he seemed to doubt nothing nor fear nothing, but trudged
straight ahead until, by-and-by, they saw a light twinkling far
away, and, when they came to it, they found a gloomy stone house,
as ugly as eyes ever looked upon. Up stepped the servant's
comrade and knocked upon the door--rap! tap! tap! By-and-by it
was opened a crack, and there stood an ugly old woman, blear-eyed
and crooked and gnarled as a winter twig. But the heart within
her was good for all that. "Alas, poor folk!" she cried, "why do
you come here?" This is a den where lives a band of wicked
thieves. Every day they go out to rob and murder poor travellers
like yourselves. By-and-by they will come back, and when they
find you here they will certainly kill you."
"No matter for that," said the travelling companion; "we can go
no farther to-night, so you must let us in and hide us as best
you may."
And in he went, as he said, with the servant at his heels
trembling like a leaf at what he had heard. The old woman gave
them some bread and meat to eat, and then hid them away in the
great empty meal-chest in the corner, and there they lay as still
as mice.
By-and-by in came the gang of thieves with a great noise and
uproar, and down they sat to their supper. The poor servant lay
in the chest listening to all they said of the dreadful things
they had done that day--how they had cruelly robbed and murdered
poor people. Every word that they said he heard, and he trembled
until his teeth chattered in his head. But all the same the
robbers knew nothing of the two being there, and there they lay
until near the dawning of the day. Then the travelling companion
bade the servant be stirring, and up they got, and out of the
chest they came, and found all the robbers sound asleep and
snoring so that the dust flew.
"Stop a bit," said the angel--the travelling companion--"we must
pay them for our lodging."
As he spoke he drew from his pocket the ruby ring which he had
stolen from the sorrowful young man's finger, and dropped it into
the cup from which the robber captain drank. Then he led the way
out of the house, and, if the serving-man had wondered the day
before at that which the comrade did, he wondered ten times more
to see him give so beautiful a ring to such wicked and bloody
thieves.
The third evening of their journey the two travellers came to a
little hut, neat enough, but as poor as poverty, and there the
comrade knocked upon the door and asked for lodging. In the house
lived a poor man and his wife; and, though the two were as honest
as the palm of your hand, and as good and kind as rain in spring-time, they could hardly scrape
enough of a living to keep body
and soul together. Nevertheless, they made the travellers
welcome, and set before them the very best that was to be had in
the house; and, after both had eaten and drunk, they showed them
to bed in a corner as clean as snow, and there they slept the
night through.
But the next morning, before the dawning of the day, the
travelling companion was stirring again. "Come," said he; "rouse
yourself, for I have a bit of work to do before I leave this
place."
And strange work it was! When they had come outside of the
house, he gathered together a great heap of straw and sticks of
wood, and stuffed all under the corner of the house. Then he
struck a light and set fire to it, and, as the two walked away
through the gray dawn, all was a red blaze behind them.
Still, the servant remembered his promise to his travelling
comrade, and said never a word or asked never a question, though
all that day he walked on the other side of the road, and would
have nothing to say or to do with the other. But never a whit did
his comrade seem to think of or to care for that. On they jogged,
and, by the time evening was at hand, they had come to a neat
cottage with apple and pear trees around it, all as pleasant as
the eye could desire to see. In this cottage lived a widow and
her only son, and they also made the travellers welcome, and set
before them a good supper and showed them to a clean bed.
This time the travelling comrade did neither good nor ill to
those of the house, but in the morning he told the widow whither
they were going, and asked if she and her son knew the way to the
garden where grew the fruit of happiness.
"Yes," said she, "that we do, for the garden is not a day's
journey from here, and my son himself shall go with you to show
you the way."
"That is good," said the servant's comrade, "and if he will do so
I will pay him well for his trouble."
So the young man put on his hat, and took up his stick, and off
went the three, up hill and down dale, until by-and-by they came
over the top of the last hill, and there below them lay the
garden.
And what a sight it was, the leaves shining and glistening like
so many jewels in the sunlight! I only wish that I could tell you
how beautiful that garden was. And in the middle of it grew a
golden tree, and on it golden fruit. The servant, who had
travelled so long and so far, could see it plainly from where he
stood, and he did not need to be told that it was the fruit of
happiness. But, after all, all he could do was to stand and look,
for in front of them was a great raging torrent, without a bridge
for a body to cross over.
"Yonder is what you seek," said the young man, pointing with his
finger, "and there you can see for yourself the fruit of
happiness."
The travelling companion said never a word, good or bad, but,
suddenly catching the widow's son by the collar, he lifted him
and flung him into the black, rushing water. Splash! went the
young man, and then away he went whirling over rocks and water-falls. "There!" cried the comrade,
"that is your reward for your
service!"
When the servant saw this cruel, wicked deed, he found his tongue
at last, and all that he had bottled up for the seven days came
frothing out of him like hot beer. Such abuse as he showered upon
his travelling companion no man ever listened to before. But to
all the servant said the other answered never a word until he had
stopped for sheer want of breath. Then--
"Poor fool," said the travelling companion, "if you had only held
your tongue a minute longer, you, too, would have had the fruit
of happiness in your hand. Now it will be many a day before you
have a sight of it again."
Thereupon, as he ended speaking, he struck his staff upon the
ground. Instantly the earth trembled, and the sky darkened
overhead until it grew as black as night. Then came a great flash
of fire from up in the sky, which wrapped the travelling
companion about until he was hidden from sight. Then the flaming
fire flew away to heaven again, carrying him along with it. After
that the sky cleared once more, and, lo and behold! The garden
and the torrent and all were gone, and nothing was left but a
naked plain covered over with the bones of those who had come
that way before, seeking the fruit which the travelling servant
had sought.
It was a long time before the servant found his way back into the
world again, and the first house he came to, weak and hungry, was
the widow's.
But what a change he beheld! It was a poor cottage no longer, but
a splendid palace, fit for a queen to dwell in. The widow herself
met him at the door, and she was dressed in clothes fit for a
queen to wear, shining with gold and silver and precious stones.
The servant stood and stared like one bereft of wits. "How comes
all this change?" said he, "and how did you get all these grand
things?"
"My son," said the widow woman, "has just been to the garden, and
has brought home from there the fruit of happiness. Many a day
did we search, but never could we find how to enter into the
garden, until, the other day, an angel came and showed the way to
my son, and he was able not only to gather of the fruit for
himself, but to bring an apple for me also."
Then the poor travelling servant began to thump his head. He saw
well enough through the millstone now, and that he, too, might
have had one of the fruit if he had but held his tongue a little
longer.
Yes, he saw what a fool he had made of himself, when he learned
that it was an angel with whom he had been travelling the five
days gone.
But, then, we are all of us like the servant for the matter of
that; I, too, have travelled with an angel many a day, I dare
say, and never knew it.
That night the servant lodged with the widow and her son, and the
next day he started back home again upon the way he had travelled
before. By evening he had reached the place where the house of
the poor couple stood--the house that he had seen the angel set
fire to. There he beheld masons and carpenters hard at work
hacking and hewing, and building a fine new house. And there he
saw the poor man himself standing by giving them orders. "How is
this," said the travelling servant; "I thought that your house
was burned down?"
"So it was, and that is how I came to be rich now," said the one-time poor man. "I and my wife had
lived in our old house for many
a long day, and never knew that a great treasure of silver and
gold was hidden beneath it, until a few days ago there came an
angel and burned it down over our heads, and in the morning we
found the treasure. So now we are rich for as long as we may
live."
The next morning the poor servant jogged along on his homeward
way more sad and downcast than ever, and by evening he had come
to the robbers' den in the thick woods, and there the old woman
came running to the door to meet him. "Come in!" cried she; "come
in and welcome! The robbers are all dead and gone now, and I use
the treasure that they left behind to entertain poor travellers
like yourself. The other day there came an angel hither, and with
him he brought the ring of discord that breeds spite and rage and
quarrelling. He gave it to the captain of the band, and after he
had gone the robbers fought for it with one another until they
were all killed. So now the world is rid of them, and travellers
can come and go as they please."
Back jogged the travelling servant, and the next day came to the
town and to the house of the sorrowful young man. There, lo and
behold! Instead of being dark and silent, as it was before, all
was ablaze with light and noisy with the sound of rejoicing and
merriment. There happened to be one of the household standing at
the door, and he knew the servant as the companion of that one
who had stolen the ruby ring. Up he came and laid hold of the
servant by the collar, calling to his companions that he had
caught one of the thieves. Into the house they hauled the poor
servant, and into the same room where he had been before, and
there sat the young man at a grand feast, with his wife and all
his friends around him. But when the young man saw the poor
serving-man he came to him and took him by the hand, and set him
beside himself at the table. "Nobody except your comrade could be
so welcome as you," said he, "and this is why. An enemy of mine
one time gave me a ruby ring, and though I knew nothing of it, it
was the ring of discord that bred strife wherever it came. So, as
soon as it was brought into the house, my wife and all my friends
fell out with me, and we quarrelled so that they all left me.
But, though I knew it not at that time, your comrade was an
angel, and took the ring away with him, and now I am as happy as
I was sorrowful before."
By the next night the servant had come back to his home again.
Rap! tap! tap! He knocked at the door, and the wise man who had
been his master opened to him. "What do you want?" said he.
"I want to take service with you again," said the travelling
servant.
"Very well," said the wise man; "come in and shut the door."
And for all I know the travelling servant is there to this day.
For he is not the only one in the world who has come in sight of
the fruit of happiness, and then jogged all the way back home
again to cook cabbage and onions and pot-herbs, and to make broth
for wiser men than himself to sup.
That is the end of this story.
"I like your story, holy sir," said the Blacksmith who made Death
sit in a pear-tree. "Ne'th'less, it hath indeed somewhat the
smack of a sermon, after all. Methinks I am like my friend
yonder," and he pointed with his thumb towards Fortunatus; "I
like to hear a story about treasures of silver and gold, and
about kings and princes--a story that turneth out well in the
end, with everybody happy, and the man himself married in luck,
rather than one that turneth out awry, even if it hath an angel
in it."
"Well, well," said St. George, testily, "one cannot please
everybody. But as for being a sermon, why, certes, my story was
not that--and even if it were, it would not have hurt thee,
sirrah."
"No offence," said the Blacksmith; "I meant not to speak ill of
your story. Come, come, sir, will you not take a pot of ale with
me?"
"Why," said St. George, somewhat mollified, "for the matter of
that, I would as lief as not."
"I liked the story well enough," piped up the little Tailor who
had killed seven flies at a blow. " Twas a good enough story of
its sort, but why does nobody tell a tale of good big giants, and
of wild boars, and of unicorns, such as I killed in my adventures
you wot of?"
Old Ali Baba had been sitting with his hands folded and his eyes
closed. Now he opened them and looked at the Little Tailor. "I
know a story," said he, "about a Genie who was as big as a giant,
and six times as powerful. And besides that," he added, "the
story is all about treasures of gold, and palaces, and kings, and
emperors, and what not, and about a cave such as that in which I
myself found the treasure of the forty thieves."
The Blacksmith who made Death sit in the pear-tree clattered the
bottom of his canican against the table. "Aye, aye," said he,
"that is the sort of story for me. Come, friend, let us have it."
"Stop a bit," said Fortunatus; "what is this story mostly about?"
"It is," said Ali Baba, "about two men betwixt whom there was--
Not a Pin to Choose.
Once upon a time, in a country in the far East, a merchant was
travelling towards the city with three horses loaded with rich
goods, and a purse containing a hundred pieces of gold money. The
day was very hot, and the road dusty and dry, so that, by-and-by,
when he reached a spot where a cool, clear spring of water came
bubbling out from under a rock beneath the shade of a wide-spreading wayside tree, he was glad
enough to stop and refresh
himself with a draught of the clear coolness and rest awhile. But
while he stooped to drink at the fountain the purse of gold fell
from his girdle into the tall grass, and he, not seeing it, let
it lie there, and went his way.
Now it chanced that two fagot-makers--the elder by name Ali, the
younger Abdallah--who had been in the woods all day chopping
fagots, came also travelling the same way, and stopped at the
same fountain to drink. There the younger of the two spied the
purse lying in the grass, and picked it up. But when he opened it
and found it full of gold money, he was like one bereft of wits;
he flung his arms, he danced, he shouted, he laughed, he acted
like a madman; for never had he seen so much wealth in all of his
life before--a hundred pieces of gold money!
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