PETER'S RETURN HOME.PETER'S RETURN HOME.
With accents that trembled with rage and grief, Wise Peter told howhe had been treated in the village; but he had scarcely made an end before Catharine, bursting into tears, exclaimed, "Oh, what will become of me! Have mercy, Peter, for it was I who poured the wine down the well!"
"Poured wine down the well!" cried Peter, starting in astonishment; "then, for heaven's sake, why did you do that?"
"Because," sobbed his wife, "the water tasted of cabbages!"
"Of cabbages!" repeated the peasant, in greater surprise than ever, "and what made it taste of cabbages?"
"Because I dipped up water in the cabbage pot," cried Silly Catharine.
"And where was the bucket?" asked her husband.
"I burnt it, trying to dip the water out of the chimney, that had been drawn up from the cabbage pot!" gasped Catharine, feeling that everything must now be told, since she had begun.
Wise Peter took two or three strides across the room in silence; then, making a violent effort to speak quietly, he said, "And why, Catharine, since you supposed that water could be drawn up a chimney, did you leave the pot unwatched?"
Almost in a scream, Silly Catharine broke out, "Because I was sewing on the turkeys' heads that I struck off cutting down the bramble bush!!"
"Now, was ever any man tormented with such a fool of a wife!" shouted Peter, almost beside himself with rage. "I could beat you with pleasure for acting so witlessly, but that, alas! would not pay for what you have lost for me this day. A hundred and five guilders of my precious money have I been made to pay for your foolery, besides losing my Tokay wine, my field of wheat, and all my fine young turkeys! at least a hundred guilders more!"
"Oh, and that's not the worst!" cried Catharine.
"What! is there any more to come?" exclaimed Peter, almost out of his senses.
"Yes," stammered Silly Catharine;"the man came here to gather the tax, and I told him, as you said, that you were far too clever to pay it, and that he would get nothing more out of me. Then he said you were a beggarly fellow, not worth five kreutzers, and, of course, I couldn't allow that; so I showed him the guilders in the store room, to prove that he spoke falsely, and he took every one of them! I am so sorry, but never mind, there is excellent cabbage soup for supper!"
At this, Peter could restrain himself no longer, and falling upon Silly Catharine, he trounced her well with his stick, until she cried out for mercy. "There!" he said at last, throwing down the stick, "you have beenwell punished, though not half enough to pay for the mischief you have done."
Silly Catharine dried her eyes upon her apron, and with a reproachful look exclaimed, "Still you have beaten me, Wise Peter, for what I could not help; for, if the turkeys had not been killed, I should never have stayed away so long; if the water had not flown up chimney, I should not have burnt the bucket; and if the well had not tasted of cabbages, I should not have thrown in the wine. And, above all, dear Peter, if that abominable man spoke ill of you, how could I, your wife, avoid showing him that he lied? Besides, the case is not so bad; we have lost nearly all, it is true; but,thank heaven, we still have delicious cabbages!"
In spite of himself, Wise Peter could not help bursting out laughing. "After all, Catharine," he exclaimed, "I see you did not intend doing me any harm; if you are a fool, that, certainly, is not your fault; therefore, in future let us never be separated. Come, you pretty goose, let us go and eat cabbage soup."
So saying, Wise Peter kissed his wife's blooming cheek, and led her into the house. They sat down with contented hearts to the nice, smoking soup, and after supper walked out among the spreading cabbages.
Inthose far away times when the world was yet in its baby clothes, and people were not as wise as they are nowadays, there dwelt in the good town of London a poor tailor's apprentice named Bartlemy Bowbell. He might be called poor in a double sense; for not only was he such a lazy, idle fellow that he scarcely ever took a stitch, and so seldom had a copper of his own, but he was a miserable workman, and, like an organ-grinder'smonkey, or a blind man's dog, obtained more kicks than halfpence.
In the same room with him were several other tailors; who sang together one of two tunes as they stitched. If they were paid for every day's work, be it much or little, they sang, "By the d-a-y! by the d-a-a-y! by the d-a-a-a-y!" and the needles went in and out as slowly as the coaches of a funeral procession; but if they were paid for every garment they finished, then they sang, "By the job! by the job! by the job!" and the needles stitched away like an express train! Bartlemy, however, crossed his legs, put his thimble firmly on, and stitched briskly for fiveminutes; then his attention would wander, and presently, dropping work, thimble, shears, and needle, he began singing to himself,
"Oh, if I were only possessed of my riches,I never would sew on a pair of old breeches!Thimbles and thread!Buttons and braid!Oh, who would be bound to this rascally trade?"If money I had, I'd be free from all care,And whatmastermustmake,Ishould have but towear!Needles and pins!Shears and cloth ends!When the work's ended then pleasure begins!"
"What's that you're singing about riches?" cried his master, sharply; "Riches, forsooth! you will die in the poor house, I can tell you, if you don't stitch more diligently! Come, sew away! sew away!" So saying, hegave him a good thwack with his yard stick, to make him continue working.
All the beatings in the world, however, could not thump out of Bartlemy Bowbell a belief that had got into his head that he should one day become rich and famous, through the agency of a wonderful jewel called the Gold Stone. As I said, people, in those days, were by no means so wise as they are at present, and so it fell outthat the most learned philosophers of that olden time believed as firmly as did the tailor's apprentice in the existence of this Gold Stone, the peculiar property of which was, that if it came in contact with any common metal, it changed it, on that instant, into gold. Now, this story had come to the ears of Bartlemy Bowbell, and by one of those odd cranks that not overwise people sometimes take in their heads, he was perfectly persuaded that, sooner or later, he was fated to find the miraculous gem.
Matters soon rose to such a pitch, as may easily be seen, that his master finally turned him out of doors, saying "that he ate more than he would ever earn."
with stick in hand
"Very well, master," quoth Bartlemy, "I don't regret your goose and cabbage!" and having said this, he ran away as hard as he could, dropping one of his slipshod shoes as he went along, with his master pursuing after, yard stick in hand, whom, however, he soon contrived to outstrip.
As he had not earned a penny during the week, he was entirely withoutmoney, and nobody would lodge a shabby apprentice with only one shoe, for nothing. He wandered on until he was clear of London and in the open fields, begging of those he met on the road, but who always replied to his solicitation, "Why don't you go to work, you lazy 'prentice?" for they knew what he was, because he wore a 'prentice's flat cap. Worst of all, night now came on, and Bartlemy was at last compelled to lie down beneath a tree, where he soon fell asleep. The moon rose high, and still Bartlemy snored, when, all of a sudden, he was roused by a smart blow on the shoulder from what he could have sworn was a yard stick.
"Needles and pins!" cried Bartlemy,sitting up in haste; "what's that?"
"Bartlemy Bowbell," croaked a strange voice, "look at me."
Bartlemy looked round, and to his extreme terror, saw standing beside him a being whom he could only suppose to be a goblin. He was not more than four feet high, with very bow legs, as though from a constant habit of tucking them up on a tailor's shop board; his clothes, fashioned from odd bits of velvet and cloth such as tailors call "cabbage," or, as we should say, the pieces of the customers' stuff left from their coats—were trimmed with thimbles for bell buttons; on his head was a tailor's cotton nightcap, with a long tassel, and hanging at his waistwere an immense pair of shears, and a pincushion bristling with needles and pins. In one hand he carried the yard stick with which he had struck the luckless 'prentice, and in the other a tailor's goose, or flat iron.
His face was expressive of the most jovial good humor, though it could not be called handsome, for his nose was flattened as though he were in the habit of trying his iron against the end; his hair seemed composed of long and short threads mingled together, and he had an abominable squint, as though he were always endeavoring to see how a coat set at the front and back, the collar and tail at the same time.
"Bartlemy," said the goblin again, "what's the matter with you?"
"Matter, your worship?" gasped Bartlemy.
"Come to the point," said the goblin, severely, accidentally swinging his pincushion against Bartlemy's legs at the same time, and pricking him most atrociously. "You are everlastingly growling and grumbling, instead of working at your trade like an honest tailor, and richly deserve to be thwacked with the yardstick every morning by way of breakfast; but never mind, I choose to help you; so say what you want, quick."
"A-and who might your worship be?" asked Bartlemy, with a cold shudder; for he felt desperately afraidthat he had got hold of Old Boguey or Old Nick—it was not much matter which.
"That's none of your business," said the being; "but if you must know, I am Snippinbitz, the patron of the tailors."
"O lord, your worship, you don't say so!" stammered Bartlemy.
"That's a fact!" returned the goblin. "Come, out with it; what can I do for you?"
Bartlemy scratched his head and took off his cap, looked into it, found no words there, and put it on again; and finally, with a bow that nearly toppled him head over heels, and a kick up of his foot that sent his remainingslipper flying into the nearest mud-puddle, he managed to say:
"Please, your worship, I want to find the Gold Stone."
The goblin burst into a discordant laugh on hearing this; then, suddenly becoming serious, he said:
"Well, that's a sensible request, Bartlemy, and a modest one, considering the circumstances. Never mind, I have taken a fancy to you; your wish shall be accomplished. See here."
With these words Snippinbitz put his hand in his pocket, and pulled out a magnificent jewel, as it seemed to Bartlemy. It was of the most resplendent purple color imaginable, and sparkled all over with flecks of gold, which seemed to swim beneath thesurface. Nothing could look more gorgeously beautiful as the astonished tailor held it up in the moonlight; yes, there could be no doubt of it; the mysterious, the unattainable Gold Stone was really his!
"Now, Bartlemy, attend to me," continued the being. "The Gold Stone is yours, but under certain conditions, which must be faithfully complied with, or no gold! First, you must return to London to-morrow, seek out your old master, and ask him to employ you as a regular workman. You will find yourself able to sew as well as the best, through my assistance, and you must employ this power diligently on the work he gives you to do. I warn you, however, that youmust keep the secret of the Gold Stone from everybody; and, in order that you may do so, you must never take it out of your pouch until you are safe in your own chamber. Secondly, when you receive your wages, place the money directly in the pouch containing the Gold Stone, and do not look at it until you go to bed. Then you will find the copper turned into silver, and the silver into gold. But if you count the money first, it will never be any different. Thirdly, in a year's time from to-night, meet me at this spot, and tell me how you have prospered. Will you keep these conditions faithfully?"
"Ye-y-es! your worship!" stammered the 'prentice.
"Then, how are you, Mr. GoldStone!" exclaimed the goblin, in advance of the age; and, with an outrageous wink, he treated Bartlemy to another whack with the yardstick, and vanished.
The blow struck our tailor insensible; and when his eyes again unclosed it was broad daylight. For a moment he stared about him, wondering how he came to be there; then, remembering the extraordinary events of the previous night, he hastily felt in his pouch, and drew out the miraculous jewel. It flamed in the sunlight like a bright diamond eye, and Bartlemy almost fancied he caught it winking at him. This idea lasted but a moment, and having taken a long and delighted stare at the much-desiredGold Stone, he replaced it carefully in his pouch, and started straight for London. As he passed the newly-opened bakers' shops, he could not help wishing that he had a half-penny in the world, so that he might change it into a crown on the spot, and buy a basketful of hot rolls; but as the Gold Stone was not warranted tomakemoney, he was forced to take it out in wishing. Fortunately one of the bakers, seeing him gaze hungrily at the hot bread, had the kindness to toss him a large roll; and, munching this, he arrived at his master's shop.
After the way in which he had been turned out, he hadn't much hope of getting in again, but, afraid of disobeying the goblin's injunctions, heentered with as much courage as he could muster, and found the other tailors stitching away as usual, while his master cut out a coat.
Bartlemy took his cap humbly off, saying, "Please, master, if you will employ me as a workman now, I think I can please you. Do try me; I will be industrious; indeed, I will."
"Oh," grumbled the master tailor, "sleeping out in the fields and going without supper and breakfast has done you good, has it? Well, take this coat and sit you down; but I warn you, beforehand, that if you are not more industrious than usual, I will lay my yardstick over your shoulder, and clear you out again."
Bartlemy took the work, and havingplanted himself on the shop-board[A]in his favorite place, near a window, he put on his thimble, threaded his needle with a grand flourish, and began to stitch away for dear life. He sewed faster and better than he had ever done before, and found, to his joy, that the goblin's promises had begun to be fulfilled in reality. But bad habits are not to be conquered as one would pull up weeds: though both must be torn up by the roots, one might weed three gardens in the time it takes to destroy one fault; and so, without really meaning it, Bartlemy at last began to ply his needle less briskly; his thoughts wandered; hetook a stitch that was three times too long, then another in a wrong place, a third and fourth all askew, and finally the work came to a dead stand-still. But, thimbles and thread! what happened? The instant his hand stopped, a long yellow yardstick came flying through the window, with no one holding it, hit him such a thwack on the shins that he roared again with the pain, and instantly vanished.
"Why, what's the matter?" asked the other tailors, startled, as they well might be.
"Matter!" cried Bartlemy. "Why, didn't you see that—that horrible yardstick coming at me?"
At this they all laughed at him for a fool; for nobody but our tailorcould perceive this terrific weapon, which was doubtless invisible to common eyes. His conscience whispered, however, that his punishment was a reminder from the friendly goblin, and accordingly he set to work with renewed diligence. After a while, lost in dreams of his approaching wealth, he stopped stitching again, when, like a flash, in came the yardstick, touched him up with a vengeance, and vanished as before; and so it continued all the time he was sewing: the watchful yardstick would only allow him to stop to thread his needle or turn the work.
When he had stitched all the seams, he laid the coat on the table and heated his goose, that he mightsmooth them. He took care to post himself a good way from the window, in order to get rid of the ferocious yardstick; but the goblin was not to be baffled thus. The moment he stopped ironing and began to count the flies on the ceiling, the goose seemed to carry his hand up with it—irresistibly—to the end of his nose, and gave it a good scorching! This was no joke, I can tell you, and in a very short time Bartlemy began so to dread the visits of his two enemies that he never left working a minute, and his needle dashed along like magic. By sunset the coat was done, and sewed in a manner vastly superior to the other tailors, who looked at him with envious eyes. "What! finish a wholecoat in one day?" they cried; "we never could do so well! Goose and cabbage! friend Bartlemy! you must have the assistance of some fairy!"
Bartlemy made no answer, but taking the coat in hand, carried it to his master, who viewed it in the greatest astonishment. Never before had a coat been made in a single day, and stitched, too, more finely than anything he had ever seen; but, not wishing to raise his late 'prentice's ideas of himself, he merely grumbled out, "For a wonder you have done your work this time; so now take your wages, and be sure to come early Monday morn."
As he spoke, he slipped a couple of coins into Bartlemy's hand, who,remembering the goblin's words, put them into his pouch without so much as looking at them.
Now, no doubt my clever little readers have guessed quite readily the true solution of this mighty mystery; but to the simple Bartlemy the reality of the Gold Stone's magic power was placed beyond a doubt when, on reaching his chamber and striking a light, he found, instead of the farthing and penny which had always been his weekly payment, a crown and sixpence.
"Huzzah! huzzah!" he cried, fairly jumping for joy; "my beautiful Gold Stone is doing its work bravely." He kissed the stone in his delight, and went to bed, to dream of becoming amaster tailor, and making clothes for the king.
The following Monday he repaired to his master's shop the first of any one, and everything happened as on the former time; except that, being more diligent at his work, the goose and the yardstick were less frequent in their favors, and he now made a coat and a vest in the day. His master really knew not what to think; but at least so good a workman was not to be lost; so he kept his surprise and suspicions to himself, and made up by heaping more and more sewing on the luckless Bartlemy.
It didn't make any difference, however; his needle almost seemed to work by itself, and the sewing wasfinished by sunset; so that, really, the good-natured goblin was the original sewing machine, and no thanks to Messrs. Grover and Baker. At the end of the week his master paid him a crown and a shilling; or, as Bartlemy believed, a farthing and a penny; the next week a guinea, and the week after a guinea and a crown, which was the highest wages ever paid.
So things went on, until Bartlemy had earned enough to make quite a fortune in his eyes; ten whole guineas lay glittering in the old night cap where he kept his savings, and the tailor thought he might now set up for a gentleman. So he bought cloth, made himself, in secret, a fine cloak, coat, and breeches, and in these jackdawadornments paraded about the streets a whole morning, trying to appear an idle fine gentleman. At last he strutted into the best inn, ordered a grand dinner and a bottle of wine, and feasted like a lord.
But his time was coming. The watchful goblin, though not at his side, knew perfectly well what he was about, and soon led him to betray his quality most fatally. When the bill was brought him, it was so long and so tremendous that Bartlemy sprang up in a rage, crying out:
"Thimbles and thread!Do you call this a decent charge for your paltry dinner?"
The landlord stared at him in astonishment; then, suddenly bursting intoa loud laugh, he cried, "Why, gentles all, this fine nobleman is nothing but a tailor! ha! ha!" and he put his hands to his fat sides and shook with laughter.
"Be silent, sirrah!" thundered Bartlemy; "orI'll break my yardstick over your shoulders!"
"Ha! ha! only hear what he says!" laughed the landlord. "A miserable tailor."
"If you do not stop your impertinence, I willshear off your ears like cloth clippings!" retorted the angry tailor. "Goose and cabbage! man; you shall not trifle with me!"
On this the landlord and waiters turned him bodily out of the house, after seizing upon all his remainingmoney; and the moment he was in the street, the knowledge of how he had betrayed himself broke upon his mind. Mortified and miserable, he hurried home, determined, after this, to stick to his trade and play fine gentleman no more.
The year at last drew to a close, and Bartlemy had now earned enough to set up for a master tailor; when, one bright moonlight night, he suddenly remembered that it was the very anniversary of his meeting with the goblin. Starting up, he ran to where his pouch was placed, took out the Gold Stone and enjoyed a long look at it, and then, throwing his cloak around him, he hastened forth. The moonlight beamed brightly on the path hewas taking, and seemed to throw all sorts of queer shadows before him; now it was an immense yardstick, now a thimble supported on two needles like a pair of spindle legs, then a goose with a pair of shears astride on the handle.
At last, as he paused under the old tree, he heard a familiar croaking laugh, and found himself unexpectedly in the presence of Snippinbitz, the friendly goblin.
"Well, Bartlemy," croaked the being; "and how have you prospered with the Gold Stone?"
"Marvellously well, your worship!" replied Bartlemy, in a joyous tone.
"And you found a crown and ashilling, and a guinea and a crown, instead of your penny and farthing; did you, Bartlemy?"
"Why, yes, your worship, I did, certainly."
"And the Gold Stone changed them, did it, Bartlemy?"
"Why, yes, your worship; of course it did."
"Now, Bartlemy," said the goblin, in a confidential tone, laying his hand on the other's shoulder, "I want to tell you something. It isn't the Gold Stone!"
"It's—not—the—Gold—Stone!!" gasped Bartlemy.
"Why, no, you donkey! there's no such thing!"
Bartlemy turned fairly green andyellow with horror and disappointment.
"Listen to me, Bartlemy Bowbell," said the goblin; "nobody but a donkey would suppose that a round bit of purple glass——"
"Of purple glass!" repeated Bartlemy, in a sort of dream.
"Don't interrupt, Bartlemy—that a bit of purple glass could change copper into gold. Your master paid you the wages your work was worth, that is all. There is no such preposterous jewel on the face of the earth as you imagine; but thereisa true Gold Stone, and its name is
'Faithful Industry!'"
As the goblin spoke these words, he suddenly began to change his form,and grew taller and broader. His bell-button thimbles fell off, his flat nose became long and sharp, his thread hair gave place to a bald pate, and his whole appearance became wonderfully like Bartlemy's master. He raised his yardstick, brought it down with a tremendous crack—and—Bartlemywoke!
Yes! he was lying under the tree where he had thrown himself down the night before. The whole of what had passed, Gold Stone, money, goblin, and all, was but the fantastic tracery of a dream; and above him really stood his master, who had repented of having turned away his luckless 'prentice, and had come to seek him.
The lesson was not lost, however,on our hero. He returned to his master's shop, where he worked diligently, without any yardstick coming after him; and in three years' time rose to be a master tailor, married his old master's daughter, cut the coats of the king himself, and took for his arms a Gold Stone, supported by two shears, and the motto:
Faithful Industry.
FOOTNOTES:[A]A shop-board is a kind of table on which tailors sit when at work.
[A]A shop-board is a kind of table on which tailors sit when at work.
[A]A shop-board is a kind of table on which tailors sit when at work.
Therewere once five learned men, who had been shut up all their lives in their studies, poking their noses into saucepans full of cookeries, which did not resemble savory soups or well-flavored ragouts, wearing their eyes out with reading books printed in the crabbedest black letter possible, and shrivelling up their brains with thinking, until they quite rattled inside their skulls, all in pursuit of out-o'-the-way knowledge.
There was really nothing scientificwith which they were not acquainted; while, in the mean time, one or two little things, perfectly familiar to people who use their eyes for the purpose of noticing the common occurrences and habits of every-day existence, and exercise their understanding in everything that can make life comfortable and agreeable, had entirely escaped the observation of our philosophers.
As the emperor allowed them each a handsome pension to advance the interests of science, they went on with their discoveries rejoicing, and for a long time had never stirred from their apartments in one of His Majesty's country palaces. They scarcely left off thinking, when they were asleep; never had the least idea what theywere eating for dinner, or even what the materials of that dinner looked like; and, in short, were sublimely unconscious of any of the ordinary affairs or interests of life; and thought only of sciences, and high-flown theories of Health, of Natural Philosophy, Chemistry, Botany, and goodness knows what beside. The fifth and last of the learned men was supposed to consider silence as an art or science, since he hardly ever said anything; and for that reason was thought to be wiser than the other four put together.
At last, one fine morning, one of our learned men chanced to poke his head out of the window, to see what on earth had become of one of his glass retorts, which he had filled withgas until it went off like a rocket; and could not help being struck with the blue sky, the fresh green herbage, and the thousands of beautiful wild flowers that sprinkled the grass. It was a charming summer day; the birds had not yet left off singing, and the fresh breeze, fanning the bald forehead of the philosopher, appeared wonderfully pleasant.
"Why, bless me!" cried the philosopher, whose name was Dr. Skihi; "while I have been trying to reduce chemistry to the uses of a penny post, I never thought of remarking whether it was a pleasant day or not. How bright and beautiful everything looks! Out-of-doors is a very good sort of thing, after all. I declare, I've a greatmind—pooh! nonsense; science—glorious science, is a great deal more to be regarded than a fine day in the country."
DR. MUMBUDGET LOOKING OUT OF THE WINDOW.DR. MUMBUDGET LOOKING OUT OF THE WINDOW.
So saying, he drew his head in again, and turned to his books and saucepans; for, you see, he was trying to condense gas, and make it dart through the air like a skyrocket, carrying a letter, or a telegraphic message, or even a traveller with it, if it was made strong enough; but, so far, he had only succeeded in breaking his retorts, and blowing himself up till his head came bump against the ceiling, and knocked off little bits of plaster. Everything in the study looked remarkably dingy after the freshness of the fields, and the doctor could notrefrain from taking another peep. This time, the contrast appeared even greater than before, while directly underneath his window there now stood two pretty little girls, one holding a great bunch of roses and other blooming flowers, and both intent on a long leaf of manuscript, which they were puzzling and laughing over, calling it "such a silly thing!" Our doctor, to his great dudgeon, recognized it as part of a learned treatise, his own production, which had accidentally blown out of the window; but, as to be known as the writer of silly things is not specially dignified, he preferred saying nothing about the matter.
"I have a great mind," he said again; "yes, I'll go and ask Dr.Sheepshanks if he does not think it would be a good plan for us to take a short trip into the country. No doubt we should make some very important discoveries."
Excusing the idea to himself in this way, Dr. Skihi toddled up one pair of stairs and down two pair of stairs, and straight along a crooked corridor, and all round a square hall, until he arrived at the apartments of Dr. Sheepshanks. He knocked at the door, and peeped through the keyhole until he was told to come in, when he opened the door softly, and shut it with an astonished bang, that made all the spiders, who were dancing hornpipes in all the corners (for the learned men would have died rather than have their sacredstudies disturbed by a house-cleaning) stand on one leg for several minutes with surprise, as a noise in the philosophers' palace was a thing rather more seldom met with than a crononhotonthologos.
The sight that caused Dr. Skihi to commit such a breach of good manners was Dr. Sheepshanks in the very middle of a summersault! with his flowered dressing gown about his ears and his spindle shanks and black stockings in the air, looking not unlike a two-legged radish growing upside down.
To him rushed Dr. Skihi, who, catching his friend by the tails of his dressing gown, had him right side up in a hurry, exclaiming, "Crucibles andgasbags! my good sir, have you gone crazy?"
"No, indeed," returned Dr. Sheepshanks, with a gleeful laugh. "I have made a discovery, sir—a great discovery. I happened to look out of the window, a moment ago, and I saw a couple of little chaps racing up and down, and playing at that topsy-turvy game you saw me trying just now. Their cheeks were so fat, and their frames so sturdy, that I feel convinced such exercises are the best promoters of health in the world; and as I am getting rather broken down myself, while I am finding out what is the best way for other people to keep healthy, I thought I would try the experiment. It does make the bloodrush to the head somewhat, I must confess; but it's a glorious thing, you may depend! I feel twenty years younger and better already, I assure you!"
All this time Dr. Sheepshanks was puffing and panting, with a very red face and astonished air; but the new theory had taken possession of him, and he would have died at the stake rather than allow that turning summersaults was not the exercise best adapted to old gentlemen of sixty.
Finding his friend so prepossessed in favor of exercise, Dr. Skihi proposed to him that they should go and take a walk, to which he readily agreed. Then they went to Dr. Smelfungus, the great botanist, who was atpresent trying to graft japonicas on bramble bushes: "It would improve the appearance of the roadside so much!" and Dr. Van Noostile, who was writing a splendid work, in twenty-five volumes, to prove that people's feeling hot and cold was perfect fancy and nonsense; and also giving a number of scientific ways of finding out whether it would rain or be clear, and what time o' day it was, without looking to see if the wind were east, or running to stare at a clock; which, no doubt, would be of the greatest use to the world, and leave all the weathercocks and watchmakers quite in the shade. Last of all, they came to Dr. Mumbudget, who had on his study door the great doorplate you see inthe picture, with his name engraved on it in letters six inches long. As usual, he said not a word in reply to the invitation of his friends, but nodded his head at them instead, until he nearly nodded it off; and so, being all of one mind, our philosophers locked up their studies, put on their five-cornered caps, and taking their gold-headed canes and their note books, to be ready to put down any new fact that might turn up, started off for a country ramble.
At first they walked along quietly enough, admiring the prospect, and enjoying the fresh air; but after a few moments, Dr. Sheepshanks could no longer resist the desire to put his new theory of health into practice.
"Really," he began, "it would be much better for us always to pursue our studies in the open air. Science teaches us that the most healthy people are the wild Indians—those children of nature, who live under the trees, dine off fresh fruits, and take plenty of exercise. Let us be children of nature, my friends, and improve our health by running to that tree," pointing to one at some distance.
Accordingly, the philosopher started off at an amble, followed by his companions, who, with dressing gowns flying in the wind, and books flying, out of their pockets every minute, presented rather ridiculous spectacles. They were so deeply engaged that they did not see Dr. Mumbudgetquietly walking along behind, picking up their scattered property.
So far so good; but unhappily, not being accustomed to the habits of children of nature, this sudden introduction to the true mode of life discomposed our learned doctors in no small degree. Fairly aching from head to foot with fatigue, Dr. Sheepshanks was the first to pause, so out of breath that he could hardly speak, yet exclaiming, with a beaming face, "Ah! you may depend, gentlemen, that the only way to enjoy life is to take plenty of exercise!"
This was drawing rather too hard on the patience of his friends, after what they had just endured, and Dr. Skihi exclaimed, rather crossly, "Atthe same time, your exercise is a famous thing to make one thirsty! I would give a great deal to obtain a drink of spring water; but that is impossible at present."
"Impossible! why, there is nothing easier!" said Dr. Smelfungus. "Science teaches us that some vegetables are nearly all water; turnips, for instance. All you have to do is to get a turnip and express the juice, and there's your drink of water."
"How about going to a well?" said Mumbudget; but nobody appeared to hear him.
"And pray, are there any turnips hereabout?" asked the chemist, impatiently.
Now, the fact was that Dr. Smelfungushad never seen a turnip; he had only read in books that turnips were round, watery vegetables, yellow outside and full of juice; for he was so interested in finding out all about flowers and plants that came from Australia, and other out of the way places, that he never troubled his head with common, homemade turnips—those were too vulgar; but as he wished to appear informed on all subjects, he pointed hap-hazard to a field beside the road saying, carelessly, "Certainly; there are some."
Now, what do you think Dr. Smelfungus had really pointed out? Why, a musk-melon patch! and as his companions knew no more than himself, Dr. Skihi scrambled through the hedgewithout more ado, cut with his penknife as many as he could carry, and returned to his friends. You may believe how they enjoyed the feast, sitting on the soft moss, in the cool shade of the trees; and after they were through, Dr. Smelfungus gravely wrote down, "Turnip—a large, round vegetable growing on vines, with a rough, yellow outside, ever so many seeds in the middle, and tastes of nutmegs!"
After these exploits, the philosophers continued on their way, and Drs. Smelfungus and Sheepshanks felt more proud of their learning than ever. Meanwhile Dr. Mumbudget said nothing; so they gave him credit either for thinking a great deal, or being too biga donkey to admire such splendid experiments.
The sun had now mounted high, and our travellers began to feel its rays inconveniently warm. Dr. Van Noostile, however, laughed them all to scorn.
"Too warm! fiddlestick's end!" he cried. "This feeling warm and cold is all humbug. Dr. Skihi can tell you that I went to the top of the house with him every night for a week, last winter, to look at a comet, in nothing but a night gown and an umbrella, and I never was better in my life! Other people might have felt cold, or caught cold; but I—I enjoyed the science of the thing! If you feel too warm, follow my plan; make up yourminds youwon'tfeel so, and the thing's done!" and Dr. Van Noostile marched proudly along in the hottest part of the road, with his nose in the air, though the sun blistered the end most abominably! while the others, not to be behindhand in wisdom, followed his example; all but Mumbudget, who kept in the shade of the trees growing beside the road, and was secretly voted a greater donkey than ever.
Fortunately for the rest, who might otherwise have been sunstruck, a friendly cloud bank, which had been for some time gathering in the east, now began to cover the sky completely; and Dr. Mumbudget, speaking for the second time, just said, "Rain coming; better hurry on," and then relapsed into silence.
"Rain! no such thing!" cried Dr. Van Noostile. "When it is about to rain, you will observethat the swallows fly low!and as I don't see a sign of a swallow, you may depend that——" His speech was interrupted by a thunderclap, and then down poured the flood! in one of those sudden, heavy showers that so often take place in summer, wetting the whole party to the skin in less than two minutes. It was of no use to run, and as they plodded along in the wet, our philosophers looked at Dr. Van Noostile with faces in which anger and dismay were equally mingled.
"Is this your knowledge of weather?" exclaimed Dr. Skihi, in a pet.
"Science teaches us that even achild of nature should go in when it rains!" snapped Dr. Sheepshanks.
"And though water is undoubtedly necessary for internal refreshment; external application, in the form of a hard shower, is only suitable to plants!" snarled Dr. Smelfungus.
In short, they all set upon the luckless weather prophet, except Dr. Mumbudget, who, when they had all scolded themselves out of breath, quietly pointed out a farm house they were now approaching, and led the way thither himself.
There was no need for words. Gladly did the wretched philosophers hasten to its shelter, and avail themselves of the bright kitchen fire to dry their flowered dressing gowns, and wetstockings and shoes. While they were drying, and steaming like the safety valve of a high-pressure steamboat, the good woman of the house, not without some doubts of their sanity, set about preparing a savory meal. In a short time this was ready, and the others were just sitting down to a dish of nice broiled ham and some light wheaten biscuits, when Dr. Sheepshanks exclaimed, with an air of amazement, "Is it possible, my friends, that you are willing to violate the natural laws of health by eating dishes at which a child of nature would be horrified! Not for me be so degenerate a meal!Ishall lunch on fare such as a wild Indian best loves!" So saying, he tucked up his sleeves, calledfor some unground corn, and having pounded it in a mortar until it was in coarse bits, he mixed with it a little water, and baked this horrible mess before the fire, in the hot ashes. Then he asked for a slice of bacon, as venison was not at hand, frizzled the out side slightly by holding it up on a cleft stick before the fire, burning his ten fingers several times in the process, and bearing it with heroic fortitude. Finally, he served up these atrocious specimens of cookery on pieces of board instead of dishes, as the proper diet for children of nature—and philosophers!
As he could not induce the othersavantsto prefer the luncheon of wild Indians to that of civilized Christians,Dr. Sheepshanks ate it all up himself, though, in fact, his rebellious palate steadily refused to relish the dainties prepared for it. Science must be made to triumph, however, and the little doctor gallantly charged these "What is It's" of cookery and finished the last morsel under furious protest of stomach.
Somewhat comforted by the meal, and seeing that the clouds had given place to a clear sky, the philosophers resumed their dressing gowns, woefully shrunken by the wetting and drying they had received, and having liberally paid their hostess, started on the homeward road; concluding that they had seen enough for one day. They were in the very poorest condition for a long walk, for their theories, so farfrom making them any happier, had produced only ill effects. Dr. Sheepshanks' healthful exercise had given them all stitches in the sides, and aches in the back; Dr. Smelfungus's knowledge of botany had betrayed them into such excesses of melon alias turnip eating, that various queer doublings up in the epigastric region began to make themselves apparent; the natural philosophy, which had led Dr. Van Noostile and his good friends to parade along the middle of the road in the sun, had given them furious headaches; and, to crown all, Dr. Skihi now made the most brilliant proposal of anybody.
Our good doctor was evidently brimming, one might say creaming,over with the milk of human kindness; beyond a possible doubt he was about to propound a discovery of benefit to the whole world. His bald head beamed benevolence, overflowing beneficence to all mankind radiated from the very tails of his dressing gown as he cried:
"My dear friends, you are all too tired to walk home now, ain't you? You would like to get there before you could say 'Jack Robinson'—now, wouldn't you? and if I were to accomplish that happy end, you could never be grateful enough—now, could you?"
"Certainly not!" exclaimed the advocate of exercise, who wished from his inmost soul, either that he had taken less turnip, or that the famousseven league boots were on his legs at that moment.
"Then all you have to do," cried Dr. Skihi with sparkling eyes, "is to get in a convenient posture; allow me to set off this retort of mine behind you—" here he produced a "glass concern" from a side pocket, to the horror of his friends—"and heigh, presto! you will find yourself flying home like a skyrocket"—
"And coming down like the stick!" gasped Dr. Smelfungus, retiring in a hurry, for the tails of his dressing gown and the gas retort of Dr. Skihi were in inconvenient proximity.
Dr. Skihi vouchsafed not another word, but with an air of indescribabledignity adjusted the retort, took out a cork—and—but words fail me to describe the catastrophe! Before Dr. Mumbudget could rush forward to prevent it, the gas had come in contact with the air, become inflamed instantly, and sent Dr. Skihi whirling above the heads of his friends!
Vesuvius in eruption, coal mines on fire, mad bulls in the full rush, and crackers exploding in a barrel, rushed wildly through the heads of our philosophers, and when, finally, the rocket-riding doctor was discharged on a hayrick, the only person who retained sufficient presence of mind to go and pick him up was Mumbudget.
Poor Dr. Skihi! The victim to science remained insensible for sometime; and when he finally recovered his consciousness, could not at first be persuaded that he was not in innumerable pieces. When he was, at last, enabled to walk on, it was discovered that while they were experimenting they had lost their way, and might be close to home or in the middle of Kamtschatka for all they knew of the road. It was again Mumbudget who helped them out of this difficulty, by speaking for the third time that day; and this third remark of the sage was as much to the point as the two first. "Ask somebody!" propounded Mumbudget, and after hobbling miserably along for some time, this somebody turned up in the person of a very small, ragged, dirty urchin; and underthe guidance of this contemptible little snipe did our prodigies of wisdom arrive at last at the abode of Science and Knowledge!
As they entered the hall, Dr. Smelfungus, with an admiring glance at the speechless Mumbudget, exclaimed, "After all, gentlemen, there must be a science far higher than ours, since we, with all our knowledge, find practical life a matter of such difficulty. Only one man, it appears, is master of it, and there he stands!" and he made a low bow to Mumbudget, who returned it by another, without a word of reply.
Dr. Skihi, at this, glanced with profound contempt at Smelfungus, and gave a "hum!" that was echoed bythe professor of health and him of natural science; then raising himself on the tips of his toes, and seesawing up and down at every word, he inquired, superciliously, "And pray, sir, may I ask, in the name of my scientific friends, what branch of science you profess, which is superior to every other?"
Mumbudget looked with a quiet smile at the excited little doctor, and replied, calmly:
"Gentlemen, I am the professor ofCommon Sense."
At this reply, the learned friends, Smelfungus not excepted, presented a series of remarkably open countenances, as respected eyes and mouths, while Dr. Mumbudget went on:
"Chemistry, Botany, Natural Philosophy, and Hygienics—all put together, gentlemen, have failed to ensure us one day of rational enjoyment or ease; for all these sciences are pure absurdities, unless they are put in the hands of men who are governed by the wholesome dictates of common sense. My wise philosophers, will you come to school to me?"
The doctors gazed a moment yet; first at the proposer of this new doctrine, then at each other; and then, all rushing forward at once, they seized his hands.
"You are right, my dear Mumbudget!" they exclaimed in a breath; "with all our science we are most greatly in want of common sense!Open your school at once; we will be the first to join its classes, and celebrate the triumph of Reason over Philosophy!"