Owlglass walks through the Barber’s Window.
The poor Barber knew not what to say, so thought he might as well not say anything; besides, he wanted his assistance, and was in hopes he might be induced to accept more reasonable terms in consideration of the damage he had done. He now gave Owlglass some razors to sharpen, and as they were somewhat rusty at the backs, he said, “Brighten up the backs; indeed, make them quite like the edge.” Owlglass took the razors and made the backs as sharp as the edges, so that the Barber, when he went to see what he was doing, exclaimed, “This is not right!” “How not right?” Owlglass said; “are the backs not sharp enough? But have a little patience and they shall be quite like the edges, as you told me to make them. You see they had got very blunt at the backs, but after a little more sharpening you will be satisfied with them.” “Are you an idiot?” the Master cried in a rage; “or is all this mischief done intentionally? Leave the sharpening and pack yourselfoff back to where you came from.” “Well,” Owlglass said, “I see we should not be happy together for all our lives, so I may as well go at once;” and he walked out through the window as he had gone in. The Barber was still more enraged at this, and ran after him to have him seized and locked up till he paid for the broken window; but Owlglass was too quick for him, reached a ship that was just about to sail, and was off.
How Owlglass frightened an Innkeeper at Eisleben with a dead Wolf.
I
Inthe depth of winter Owlglass put up at an inn at Eisleben, where one evening there also arrived three merchants from Saxony on their way to Nurenberg. They related how they had been attacked by a wolf, against which they had much difficulty in defending themselves, and that this disagreeable adventure had considerably delayed them. The host, who was a bragging sarcastic sort of a person, joked them much about their adventure, declaring that it was a shame they should allow themselves to be delayed by a miserable wolf; that, for his part, if he were attacked by two wolves, he would soon drive them off, but here three were frightened by one wolf. This continued all the evening till the merchants went to bed, Owlglass in the mean time remaining silent,but turning it over in his mind how he could best play mine host some trick to pay him off for his bragging. The merchants and Owlglass shared the same bed-room; and when the former discussed among themselves how they could repay the mocking of the Innkeeper, Owlglass said he had been thinking it over, and that if they would leave it to him he would engage that they should hear no more about the wolf. The merchants readily agreed, promising a handsome reward if he paid their tormentor off well; and Owlglass then proposed that they should continue their journey, and all meet again there on their return. Early the next morning the merchants paid the reckoning for Owlglass, as well as for themselves, and rode on their way, mine host calling after them to beware lest a wolf should cross their path. Owlglass also took his departure and went on the chase after a wolf. He succeeded in killing one, which he left out in the cold till it was frozen quite stiff, and when the merchants returned he put his prize in a sack, and, taking it with him, joined them at the inn as agreed upon. The Innkeeper again teased his guests about the wolf, talking very big of how he would act. Whenthe merchants went to their bed-room Owlglass joined them, and said, “My good Friends, keep your candle burning, and do not go to bed yet, for we will have some sport this night.” Now, as soon as all the household had gone to bed, Owlglass fetched the dead wolf, which was hard frozen, and taking it to the kitchen placed it near the hearth, supporting it with sticks so that it stood upright, at the same time opening its jaws in which he put a child’s shoe. Then, quietly returning to his room, he called loudly for something to drink. When the Innkeeper heard this he grumbled at being disturbed, and calling up the maid told her to get some beer for his guests. The maid went to the fire in the kitchen to light a candle, and seeing the wolf with its jaws wide open, rushed out into the yard, thinking the brute had surely devoured the children. Owlglass and the merchants continued to call for drink, and the Innkeeper, thinking the maid had gone to sleep again, called the man. He went to the fire to light a candle, and when he saw the wolf, thought it had made away with the maid, so he too ran out into the yard. The shouting for drink still continuing, the Innkeeper thoughtthe man must be asleep as well as the maid, and, grumbling like a bear, he himself got up. As soon as he had lighted a candle he saw the wolf with the shoe in its jaws, and running to the merchant’s room, trembling with terror, cried out, “Come and help me, my dear Friends, for there is a frightful monster in the kitchen, which has devoured my children, maid, and man servant.” They went with him; the girl and the man came from the yard, and the wife brought the children. All were alive. Owlglass then went up to the wolf, which he turned over with his foot, and it did not stir; then turning to the Innkeeper, said, “What an arrant coward you are! It is not long ago that you said you were ready to fight two wolves, and just now you ran away, trembling and shouting, from a dead one.” The Merchants made rare fun of mine host, and the next morning, after paying the bill, took their departure with Owlglass.
The Frightful Monster.
The Grateful Animals.
A
A goodmany years ago some boys in a village were having rare sport with a mouse which they had quite surrounded, so that the poor little thing could nowhere escape, for to which ever side it turned, a heavy shoe, or a stick, threatened it with instant death. The poor animal thought this no sport at all, but the boys shouted with laughter as they saw it scamper and jump to avoid the blows aimed at it. Activity alone saved it from its tormentors; but this was beginning to fail, when, fortunately, a man came that way.
This man had more kindness in his heart than money in his pockets; but with this he had one great fault, for he was somewhat restless and fickle-minded, which, however, on this occasion proved fortunate for the poor little mouse, and eventually so for himself. His restless disposition had drivenhim to travel, poor as he was, and thus he came to the village, where witnessing the little creature’s distress he released it, by giving the boys a few half-pence, and it instantly took refuge in a hole close by.
In his wanderings he came to another village where he saw a crowd of boys, and, I am sorry to say, there were girls as well, tormenting an inoffensive donkey, which he saved from further molestation by again parting with a little of his scanty stock of money.
Further on he reached another village, where he released a bear from like persecution by giving more money.
Not long after these adventures this good man himself got into trouble, and was condemned by a cruel judge to be put into a box with only a jug of water and one loaf of bread, and thus thrown into the river, though I assure you he was quite innocent.
You may imagine his distress, for he was not very comfortable in his box, nor could he see where he was being carried to, when all at once he felt the box grating against the ground, and then heard a nibbling at the lock, which, after awhile, gave way, and when he raised the lid was delighted to see histhree friends, the Mouse, the Ass, and the Bear, who now helped him in return for his kindness to them.
Friends in Grave Consultation.
They were not satisfied with merely saving his life, for they knew that he was poor, and had, moreover, spent some of his money to save them; so they were consulting together what they could do for him, when the bear espied a white stone come floating along. “Nothing could happen more fortunate,” the Bear cried, “for here comes the lucky stone, and whoever has that will have all his wishes fulfilled on the instant.”
The man, hearing this, seized the stone as it was passing, and wished himself in a palace with every comfort and luxury, surrounded by beautiful grounds; and the next instant all was as he had wished. Now, dazzled by so much splendour, and happy beyond anything he had ever dreamt of, he forgot his friends, the Mouse, the Ass, and the Bear, though, I have no doubt, he would have thought of them sooner or later and wished them with him; but before this fault was remedied misfortune came upon him.
It so happened that some merchants passed that way, and seeing a magnificent palace, where beforethere had only been barren land, they were seized with wonder and curiosity, so they went in and asked the owner how he had worked such a truly wonderful change. “I had only to wish for it,” was the answer. They marvelled at this, as well they might; and being told that it was by means of the lucky stone his wish had been fulfilled, they offered all their merchandize for the stone.
Our friend, whose head, it must be confessed, was not as good as his heart, seeing so many beautiful things, agreed to the bargain at once, without thinking that he need only wish and he could have all those and more beautiful things. He gave the merchants the stone; and it was no sooner out of his hands than he found himself in his former position, which was rendered worse when he compared all the splendour and comfort he had lost to his ugly comfortless box, with only a jug of water and one loaf.
His friends, however, did not desert him in his distress, but this time they could not open the box; and, after consulting, the Bear said, “I see we cannot do any good without the lucky stone, so let usgo to the palace where the merchants now live and try to get it.” This was agreed upon; and when they got there they held another council. The bear seems to have had the wisest head, for he was again spokesman, and said, “It is useless for us to expect to be let in here; but you, my friend Mrs. Mouse, you can creep through anywhere—see, there is just a little hole at the bottom of the door. Go in, and, as only one of the merchants is now at home, worry him in every possible way, for you can always manage to escape; and when you have worked him into a perfect fury lead him here to the door, and no doubt he will open it to rush out after you. Then we two will go in and easily master him between us. Only you take care to find out where he keeps the stone.”
The mouse got through the hole in the door without difficulty; and, after finding out where the stone was, went in search of the merchant, whom she found in bed. She crept in at the bottom and began nibbling at his toes. The merchant jumped up in a fright, but when he saw the mouse his fright turned to rage, and he made a snatch at it; but the littlething was too quick for him: and now began a chase all round the bed-room, round every table and chair, and into every corner of the next room, and, finally, into the hall, where, jumping up and biting him in the calf of the leg, in order to exasperate him still more, she slipped through the hole she had got in at.
The Merchant’s Rough Handling.
The merchant threw open the door, and the bear, who was ready, greeted him with the closest embrace. They rolled down together, but the bear soon hugged all the breath out of him, and leaving him in charge of the donkey went with the mouse to fetch the stone. No sooner had they this in their possession than the three went off, regardless of the confusion they left behind them.
They soon reached the water-side; but the box was floating in deep water, and the Donkey said, in despair—
“We shall never get at it.”
The Bear, however, cried, “Nonsense, leave that to me, I can swim well enough, so you, Donkey, just put your fore-feet round my neck, and take the stone in your mouth, but mind you don’t swallow it;and you, my little Friend, can make yourself snug somewhere in my long hair.”
All being satisfactorily arranged, off they set, but were destined to meet with a misfortune on their voyage; for the bear, who was rather fond of hearing himself talk, could not refrain from expatiating on the past adventure.
“We managed that pretty well, I flatter myself. What is your opinion, my long-eared Friend?” And as the donkey made no answer he continued—
“How is this? I was always taught that a civil question deserves a civil answer; but this does not seem to enter into your notions of politeness. Who taught you manners, my Friend?”
The donkey could stand it no longer, but opened his mouth, and out fell the stone “plop” into the water.
“There, you see what comes of your talking. Could you not wait till our work was finished? How could I open my mouth without losing the stone? And now it is gone, and with it all hope of helping our friend.”
“Well, well, my good Fellow,” the Bear interruptedhim, for he was not anxious to hear any more, as he felt himself in the wrong, “a moment’s action is better than an hour’s regret. I have a bright idea that will put all right again. Let us go back, and I’ll set about it at once.”
On the way back the bear called up all the frogs that were in those parts, and said to them, “Fetch me up as many stones as possible from the bottom of the water, for I have an idea of building you a place of refuge in case of danger.”
A loud croaking was immediately heard, which called the frogs from all parts; and they set about collecting stones without loss of time.
It was not long before the lucky stone was added to the heap, which the bear immediately seized; and telling the frogs that there were now stones enough, the three friends started off again.
They soon reached the box, which now opened without difficulty, and the poor prisoner was relieved; but only just in time, for the loaf of bread was consumed, and he began to suffer from want.
As soon as he had the stone in his hand he wished himself back in the palace, which he found just ashe had left it. This time he did not forget his friends, and they lived happily together to the end of their days.
Now, does not this story prove that an act of kindness meets with its reward, and that the ungrateful are worse than the brute beasts, for our three good animals effectually showed their gratitude?
Tim Jarvis.
T
TimJarvis was as decent and hardworking a man as any one could wish to know, till the evil spirit got astride his imagination. Tim was not only a decent, hardworking man, but recollected his early lessons, that the evil one should be resisted with might and main.
Nor was it during the day that the enemy, at first, attempted to gain any advantage; but it was at night that he mainly worked upon his mind by means of dreams.
Night after night he dreamed of treasures of gold and precious stones that were to be found, first in one place and then in another, till it grew too much for him, and his waking hours were scarcely different to dreaming. He was now found digging anywhere but in his garden or potatoe field; and indeedhis dreams led him all the way from Ireland to London-bridge, with his spade across his shoulder.
Now, when poor Tim was on London-bridge he felt himself more puzzled than ever he had been in his life; he was quite bewildered by the confusion and noise, and being pushed from one side to another; but after a while he began to recover himself; and as he walked up and down, first on one side and then on the other, he tried the ground with his spade, but quite accidentally like, or as if it were a walking-stick, for he was wide awake.
“For sure,” he said to himself, “I’m not going to let so many people suspect what treasure is lying under their feet.”
He was encouraged by the hollowness of the sound; but then again his spirits sank, for he found no spot where his spade could make the slightest impression, nay, he doubted whether he could stick a pin in anywhere, so hard were the stones.
When it had grown dark, and the bridge was still crowded, he began to fear that all the people were there for the same purpose as himself; but hewas determined that he would tire them out; and indeed the numbers did gradually decrease.
St. Paul’s had just struck twelve, when a stranger, stopping just in front of our friend, said—
“Well, Tim, you have come a long way, but you might have done better nearer home. You know, Tim, the lane that runs at the back of your cabin, and you know the old wall, for I’ve seen you digging under that many a night. Well, Tim, you were in the right road, but too near home. I’ve seen you turn sharp round that wall, and, crossing the big bog, look longingly at the heap of stones behind the furze-bush in Terry O’Toole’s field.”
“Yes,” sighed Tim; “but it would have been more than my life was worth to dig there, for though Terry knows well that his whole field is nothing but ugly stones, he would murther man, woman, or child who stuck a spade in any part of the ground—the big baste.”
“True for you, Tim,” the stranger said, “but the gold is there.” After these words the stranger was gone as suddenly as he had appeared, and poor Tim was left, more puzzled than ever.
“May be,” he said to himself, “its desaiving me he is, that he may have the digging of Lunnon-bridge all to hisself, but then sorrow a spadeful of earth could any one throw up here, in all his life. No, it was to meet the sthrainger that I came all the way here without knowing it, so now I’ll go back to ould Ireland.”
Tim did go back, and, after selling his potatoe-field, bought the waste bit of land, which O’Toole was pleased to call a field.
What did Tim care, when all the neighbours called him mad, or even when his wife threatened him because he sold the bed from under her to buy a new spade and pick, for he knew it was troublesome ground he had to work in, and no mistake.
When night came, after he had all ready, Tim went to his new property, and, hard as the work was, did not rest till the first grey of morning began to appear. Just then, through a crack in the ground, he thought he heard voices below. He listened, scarcely drawing his breath, when all the breath was frightened out of him, for he plainly heard—
“We’ll give Tim a nice dance when he comes for our gold.”
When he had recovered himself a bit, he scrambled out of the hole as fast as possible, and went home, where he met with no over-pleasant reception from his wife.
A strange day that was which Tim spent, divided between rejoicing and trembling, for he knew now for certain that gold was there; but he knew, too, that there were some sort of beings to be dealt with; and what were those beings? His hair stood on end as he pictured some frightful monsters to himself; but yet all must be risked to gain possession of the gold, and he said, “It’s mighty polite I’ll be to the gintlemen, and sure they won’t harm a poor man.”
Over and over again he repeated what he should say to the “gintlemen,” and thus the day passed; the most anxious day of his life. He took care to arm himself with more than natural courage, in the shape of a bottle of potheen, of which he took a sup, and then another, and then a still longer one, before he jumped into the hole.
In the darkness, for night had come on, he plainly saw a light shining through the crack in the ground,as the night before, so he immediately set to work; and he had not thrown up many spades of earth, when the ground gave way, and he sank down, he never knew how low, nor could he ever recollect more than that he found himself surrounded by the strangest little beings, who were all jabbering at once, and seemed very angry.
He remembered that he made them his best of bows, and gave them his fairest words, when the tallest of them, stepping forward, addressed Tim thus:—
“Tim, we see that you are a decent, well-spoken, and polite gentleman, and in your case we will overlook our privacy being intruded on, which you must look upon as a great favour.”
“And ’tis very much obleged that I am to your honer and the other gintlemen, and sure ’tis I that will never forget it; but might I not make so bold as to tell you that I am a poor man, and ask your honour whether you could not help me with a thrifle?”
There was a loud shout of laughter, and then the same little fellow that had addressed him before,said, “Well, Tim, we have plenty of the rubbish you all think so much of. There, take as much of the gold as you can carry.”
Tim saw that the ground was covered with guineas, which he set to picking up as fast as he could stow them away, and when he could not find room for one more, he took both his hands full, sighing that he must leave so many behind.
Then the little people cried out, “Go home, Tim Jarvis; but shut your eyes close, or some mischief will happen to you.”
He did as he was told, and felt himself whisked through the air quicker than lightning. Some time after he knew that he no longer moved, he ventured to open his eyes, for he felt a mighty tugging at his hair. He found himself by the side of the hole he had been digging, and his wife, who had grown tired of his strange ways of late, was shaking him rather roughly.
Tim Jarvis and his Wife.
“Lave the breath in me,” he cried, “and I will fill your apron with golden guineas.” He put his hand in his pocket, but only pulled out a few yellow furze-blossoms. When he saw this Tim was quitedejected, and did not venture to answer a word to his wife’s reproaches, but allowed himself to be led home.
From that night he left off dreaming; and taking again to his industrious, hardworking habits, soon made up for his past neglect, and was not only able to buy back his potatoe-field, but became a happy, flourishing man.
His wife used to say that it was only a dream about the little people and the gold, for that certainly she had found him asleep; but Tim shook his head.
The Shoemaker and the Dwarfs.
W
Whydo we read of so many shoemakers that were poor? Surely they must have lived in Ireland; but, be that as it may, we have to tell of another, who, though he was most anxious to fit all the world, could find no customers, till at last he had nothing left but just leather enough to make one pair of shoes.
He had been running about all day, longingly looking at all the feet, and wishing he might measure some one for this last pair of shoes, but he returned, having only worn out his own. However, with all his poverty, he had a light heart and a good wife, who was always ready to cheer him; so he determined to make up the shoes in the very best style, and, putting them in his window, trust to a purchaser.
He cut them out, intending to begin his work early the next morning, and went to bed, soon fallingasleep. Imagine the good man’s astonishment when, on the following morning, he found the shoes already made, and in such a manner that he could not take his eyes off them.
He put them in his window, though he could hardly make up his mind to part with them, and, half hoping to frighten purchasers away, he set twice as high a price upon them as it had been his custom to charge.
However, a customer was soon found; and though it was with regret he parted with those master-pieces of work, yet, when he held so much money in his hand, he was delighted, for not only could he buy leather to make two pairs of shoes, but he could get his wife a few necessaries she had been long obliged to dispense with.
That evening he cut out two pairs of shoes, ready for the next morning, when, on getting up, he found those finished, with workmanship no less excellent than that of the night before.
For these, also, customers were speedily found, at equally good prices as the previous pair; and that night the Shoemaker cut out four pairs of shoes,which he again found made to perfection the following morning. Thus it went on, the work that was prepared at night being finished by the morning, so that our good friend soon became a flourishing man; but he and his wife remained as simple in their habits as of old, preferring to spend what they could spare on their more needy neighbours.
Curiosity seems part of a woman’s nature, and the Shoemaker’s wife certainly felt very curious to see who their friends were that did the work so beautifully; so she proposed to her husband that they should hide themselves, and, leaving a candle burning, watch for their nightly visitors.
They did so, and at midnight saw two Dwarfs come in, who immediately set to at the work left for them, stitching and hammering away so fast that the Shoemaker felt quite bewildered by their rapidity. Not one moment did they stop, but worked on till all was finished, and disappeared long before daylight.
Now, if the Shoemaker’s wife was curious, she was kind-hearted as well, and was much grieved to see that such good, industrious little fellows should beso neglected by their families and friends, for they had not a stitch of clothes on, when it was winter too. Had they no wives or no sisters to look after their comfort? And she proposed to make them a decent suit of clothes each.
The good man was delighted at the proposal; so she bought the stuff, and gave herself but little rest till she had made them a coat, waistcoat, and a pair of trowsers each, as near their shape and size as she could guess.
As soon as finished, the clothes were left for them instead of the customary work, and the shoemaker and his wife again watched their coming.
About midnight they appeared; and when they found the clothes in place of their usual work, they stood for a moment irresolute, and then took up each article, examining it on all sides. They then began to try on the things, not without making several mistakes, for one of the little fellows had got his arms into the legs of the trowsers, whilst the other was putting on the waistcoat over the coat. But at length they were dressed; and having examined each other, and then themselves, they wereso delighted that they set to capering and dancing about the room, and playing all manner of antics, jumping over the chairs and tumbling over head and heels, till at last they danced out of the room hand-in-hand.
The Dwarfs’ Capers.
They did not appear again; but the Shoemaker continued to prosper, and became a rich man; he and his wife being respected and loved by all who knew them.
The Countryman and the Jew.
T
Therewas once a Farmer, a great miser, and he had a servant as simple as he himself was close, for he had served his master, three years without being offered any wages, or asking for any.
After the three years, however, the man thought he would not work any longer without pay, so he said to his master, “I have worked for you diligently and faithfully, and hope you will now give me a fair reward for my services.”
Knowing that his man was a great simpleton, the farmer gave him three-pence, saying, “I not only reward you fairly, but splendidly—here is a penny for each year; but, now that you are rich, do not squander your money and get into idle habits.”
The poor fellow thought that he was rich indeed, so determined that he would not work and slave any longer, but travel and enjoy himself.
With his fortune in his purse, and his purse safely in his pocket, he set out; and as he was going along, singing merrily, a little dwarf came up and asked him why he was so merry.
“Why should I not be merry,” he answered, “for I am rich and have nothing to do but to enjoy myself? I have worked hard for three years, and saved all my earnings.”
“And how much might they be?” the little man asked. When told that the amount was three-pence, he said he was very poor, and begged hard for the money. The Countryman did not make him ask long, and cheerfully gave him his three-pence, when the little fellow said—
“You have a kind, generous heart, and shall not suffer for your liberality. You shall have three wishes, which shall be granted you—one for each penny.”
The Countryman was highly rejoiced, and said, “Many thanks, my good Friend, for your offer; and,first of all, I would like to have a gun which will bring down everything that I shoot at; and, secondly, I choose a fiddle, to which, when I play, every one must dance, whether he will or no. These will satisfy me, so I will not trouble you with a third wish at present.”
“Your wishes are soon granted,” said the Dwarf, and gave him the desired gun and fiddle; after which he went his way.
Our friend was happy before, but now his happiness knew no bounds; and he only wanted an opportunity to try his fiddle, for the gun he had already tried several times as he walked along.
The desired opportunity was not long wanting, for he soon met a Jew; and just where they met stood a tree, on one of the branches of which sat a plump wood-pigeon.
“I wish I had that bird,” said the Jew; “could you not shoot it for me, my Friend?”
“That is easily done,” was the answer; and the same instant the bird fell amongst some thorn-bushes at the foot of the tree. The Jew crept in among the bushes to pick it up; and no sooner was he inthe middle than the Countryman took his fiddle and played the sprightliest of jigs.
The first sound no sooner reached the Jew’s ears than he began to dance; and, as the tune went on, he jumped and capered higher and higher, at every leap he took leaving a piece of his clothes hanging to the thorns. The thorns soon began to enter his flesh, and, in pain, he cried out—
“For heaven’s sake, leave off playing! What have I done to deserve this?”
“What have you done?” said the Countryman. “How many a poor wretch have you not ruined! And the duty to avenge them has fallen upon me, so I will just play you another tune, and mind you dance well to it.”
The Jew then offered him money to give over; but, as his offer did not rise high enough, he had to dance on till, in despair and worn out by fatigue and pain, he said he would give a hundred pieces of gold, which he had in his purse. As the purse was thrown down the Countryman’s heart was softened; so he gave over playing, took up the purse and went his way, highly delighted with his day’s work.
The Jew’s Dance.
No sooner had he gone than the Jew crept out from among the thorns, half naked, and his heart full of bitterness and revenge. The loss of his money smarted even more intolerably than the wounds in his flesh, and he hastened to the nearest judge, to whom he complained how he had been robbed and ill-treated, giving a description of his tormentor.
The judge could not refuse justice to the Jew; so he sent out his officers, who soon caught the Countryman, and, brought back, he was put upon his trial.
The Jew’s evidence, and the sorry plight he was in, were too convincing to be got over, though the defence was that the money had been given of his own account and not taken from him.
The Countryman was condemned to be hanged. He was led off to the gallows at once; but just as the rope was about to be put round his neck he said—
“My Lord Judge, I cannot complain of the sentence passed upon me, since my accuser swears that I robbed and ill-treated him, and I only ask to have one favour granted me before I die.”
“Anything excepting your life,” was the answer.
“I do not ask my life, but only that you will ordermy fiddle to be restored to me, and allow me to play once more upon it.”
“No! no! for heaven’s sake, no!” cried the Jew. “Don’t let him have that infernal fiddle, my Lord, or misfortune will come upon the whole of us.” But the judge said his word had been given; so he ordered the fiddle to be given to the prisoner.
The Countryman no sooner had the instrument in his hands than he struck up a dance, and at the very first note even the judge’s feet began to shuffle about as he sat in his chair, and as for the others they fairly danced.
In vain the Jew caught hold of the clerk’s desk, for his legs flew out on either side; and as the height of his capers was checked they only became the more frequent.
The judge’s clerk, the officers of the court, the hangman, as well as all the spectators, were dancing with all their might, and soon the judge himself danced out of his chair into the midst of them.
At first all seemed good humour and enjoyment, and no one, excepting the Jew, wished to check the general merriment; but as it went on there were nobounds to the capers, and there were cries of pain, as one alighted on another’s toes, and cuffs and blows were exchanged as one jostled the other.
The Jew, who had broken away from his hold of the desk, was the maddest in his capers, and he shrieked for mercy; the others soon joining in the cry, begged the player to leave off, but he fiddled away faster and faster till the judge promised him a free pardon.
The Countryman said, “I already once earned the hundred pieces of gold, and I deserve them now again for the dance I have played; so pray, my Lord, order the money to be restored to me, or I must think that you are not yet satisfied.”
The judge then said the money should be given him; but the Countryman, without leaving off playing, addressed all the other dancers thus, “You all hear how handsomely his Lordship rewards me, and I expect that each of you will show your gratitude, for the amusement I have afforded you, by a present; each according to his means.”
So anxious were all to put an end to the dance that every one offered what he could afford, but theCountryman said, “I did not hear the Jew’s voice. Now, of him I have to request a full confession of how he came by the hundred pieces of gold; and till he has made this confession I must trouble you all to continue the dance.”
All threatened the Jew with instant death if he did not confess; so the rogue was forced to condemn himself by confessing that he stole the hundred pieces of gold; for which he was punished with as many stripes, when the dance was over.
My Watch.
I
I musttell you my story myself, that is the story of my watch, and bad luck to it, for it was small comfort to me; and what have I now left of it, but to tell the trouble it brought upon me?
One day of the year eighteen hundred and thirty-three, Tim Looney, the parish schoolmaster, a mighty learned man, from whom I got my learning, went up to Dublin, to get his lease renewed with ’Squire Beamish, who is now dead and gone, rest his soul. Well, as I was saying, Tim Looney went up to Dublin, and had just come back, when of course all the neighbours came to hear the news from the big city, and Molly Mahone, as you can imagine, thrust herself before them all, saying—
“Come, you auld pictur card, when are you goin’to tell us the news? What is the good of you, you auld worm, if you canna even speak?”
You know Moll is rather hasty.
“Och, and it’s more wonders I have to tell than one of you will believe. I saw the great Boneparte riding on a flea, and the Dook of Wellington by his side, quite friendly like.” “And was Boneparte a very big man?” said I.
“I don’t know,” said Tim; “I’ve heard say he was a little man, but they call him the great Boneparte for all that.”
“He was a great man,” said Moll to me, “just as you are a great fool, so hauld yer tongue, will ye, and let Tim go on.”
Tim did go on, and told us many other great wonders; but it’s of myself I want to speak. Well, then, after Tim had told us all he had seen, he gave me such a fine large silver watch, and a thirty shilling note, which my sister, Biddy, had sent from Merica, for me to buy a new fiddle with, for she had heard that I was great in music. I put the watch in my pocket to keep it safe, and then I examined the note all over, thinking all the while howbeautiful I would play on my new fiddle; but Tim soon stopped me by asking me what o’clock it was.
After looking at the sun, which he himself had taught me, I told him it must be about two; when he said, “And why can’t you look at the watch, and tell me the exact minute it is?”
I didn’t look at my watch, for I thought it was making game of me he was, but I said, “And how should she tell me the time of day? Can she speak?”
“You are a big fool, Paul,” he said; “look at her face, and see where her hands point to.” That she should be able to tell me the time, and have a face and hands, with which she points, was too much, so I burst out laughing, but I took her out of my pocket.
“There,” Tim said, “don’t you see something sticking out on her face? Those are her hands, and you see they point to numbers; but may be it’s your numbers you don’t know, after all my teaching.”
This provoked me, so I looked at what he called her face, and saw the numbers, sure enough, and the things he called the hands too. “Well,” Tim went on, “and what number does the short hand pointto?” “None,” said I, “for it points just half way between the two and the three.” “Then the long hand points to six, and it’s half-past two it is,” Tim said. “And how does all this happen?” I asked, for I was sorely puzzled, Tim knowing too where the long hand pointed, without my telling him.
“Put her up to your ear,” he said, “and she will tell you how she works.”
I did as I was told, and heard her go “tick-a-tick, tick-a-tick.” As I listened to her a mighty fear came over me, and I flung her from me, crying out, “The crittur does talk some unnatural language, and perhaps she’ll bite too.”
Tim caught her, and exclaimed, “What a fool you are, Paul!” for he was now quite angry; “if I had not caught her she would have been done for entirely.” After he had held her some time in his hands, seeing there was no harm in her, I took her again and went home. I was half afraid of her, so did not look at her again till night, when the big varmint, Pat Molloy, came in, shouting fit to frighten the life out of one.
“Is it a watch I hear you’ve got, Paul?”
“Those ugly long ears of yours heard right,” I answered, for I did not much like Pat. “And may be then you’ll be after telling one the time it is.” With that I pulled out the watch, and looked at her; but I had clean forgotten what Tim had told me, though I recollected something about her hands pointing to a number, so seeing something pointing to seven, I said at once, “It’s near seven o’clock,” for I did not like to be looking too long, to be laughed at by that fellow.
“And it’s near seven, it is,” Pat said. “You’re a fine fellow to have a watch. It’s a turnip you might as well have in your pocket, for it’s long past eight, it is.” The pride of the O’Moors and of the O’Doughertys was taken out of me entirely quite by that rascal, for I felt it rush from the soles of my feet into my head, but I wouldn’t get into a passion, for him to see that I was in the wrong, so I said, “And if you know the time so well, why do you ask me?”
Pat only burst into a hoarse laugh, and ran out of the cabin to tell every one, he could show his ugly face to. I went to bed to drown my troubles, butit was one long night-mare I had; first the watch and then the fiddle dancing on my chest, grinning at me all the while, with Pat Molloy looking on.
My first thought on waking in the morning was my watch, and looking up to her, for I had hung her on a nail, as I had been told, I said, “Good morning to you, how are you this morning, my dear?” for I thought it best to be civil to her, but no answer did she make me. I spoke to her again, and as she was still silent I took her down from the nail and held her to my ear.
“Och, it’s dead she is,” I cried, as she still gave no signs of life, and I rushed across to Tim’s. I knocked at his window, shouting, “Are you awake?” “No,” he said; “why should I be awake at this time o’morning?”
“Then,” said I, “you must listen to me in your sleep, for it’s dead she is, and what will I do at all?” “I hope she had the benefit of the Clergy,” Tim cried, starting up and coming to the window. “It’s not that I mean, it’s not my mother at all, it’s the watch that’s dead,” I explained.
“Leave me in peace then,” he said, going back tohis bed; but as I would not leave him in peace, but kept crying out, “What will I do?” he growled, “Wind her up, you fool; she’s not dead at all; but give her here, and the key, or it’s ruin her you will.”
So I gave him the watch and the barn-door key, which I happened to have in my pocket. It was well for me that I turned my head on one side, as I thought I heard some one coming, for just then the key came whizzing past my ear.
“I wish it had broken your lubberly head,” Tim cried, in the biggest rage I ever saw him. “It’s the little key I want; the one with the bit of red tape I gave you yesterday.”
I fortunately found the funny little thing in my pocket, but it was not a bit like a key. As soon as I gave it him he twisted and twirled it about in her, till I heard her cry, and then he said—
“There, take her away, for she is all right again, and mind you don’t let me see you for a whole week, or surely it’s murder you I will.”
Now, mind this and you’ll see how strangely things come about. If it had not been for this what Tim said, I should not have had to tell you the story ofmy watch, or it would not have ended as it now must. If Tim had told me about winding her up the night before I should not have disturbed him in the morning, and he would not have been so angry, and would not have told me not to see him again for a week. He has since said that he did not mean a word of that; and, had I but known it, that tarnation Pat could not have cheated me; however I will tell you how it happened.