The lion and the fox and the army of Dublin went on then, trying to catch the tailor, and they kept going until they came to the placewhere the old white garraun was, and the old white garraun told them that the tailor and his wife were there in the morning, and "Loose me," said he; "I am swifter than you, and I'll overtake them." They released the old white garraun then, and the old white garraun, the fox, the lion, and the army of Dublin pursued the tailor and his wife, and it was not long before they came up with them.
When the tailor saw them coming, he got out of the coach with his wife, and he sat down on the ground.
When the old white garraun saw the tailor sitting on the ground, he said, "That's the position he was in when he made the hole for me, that I couldn't get out of, when I went down into it. I'll go no nearer to him."
"No!" said the fox, "but that's the way he was when he was making the thing for me, and I'll go no nearer to him."
"No!" says the lion, "but that's the very way he had, when he was making the plough that I was caught in. I'll go no nearer to him."
They all left him then and returned. The tailor and his wife came home to Galway.
This story was told long ago by our Northern forefathers who brought it with them in theirdragon ships when they crossed the North Sea to settle in England. In those days men were apt to invent stories to account for things about them which seemed peculiar, and loving the sea as they did, it is not strange that they had remarked the peculiarity of the ocean water and had found a reason why it is so different from the water in the rivers and steams.
This is not the only story that has come down to tell us how people of old accounted for the sea being salt. There are many such stories, each different from the other, all showing that the same childlike spirit of inquiry was at work in different places, striving to find an answer to this riddle of nature.
There sprang from the sons of Odin a race of men who became mighty kings of the earth, and one of these, named Frode, ruled over the lands that are called Denmark.
Now about this time were found in Denmark two great millstones, so large that no one had the strength to turn them. So Frode sent for all the wise men of the land and bade them examine the stones and tell him of what use they were, since no one could grind with them.
And after the wise men had looked closely at them and read the magic letters which were cut upon their edge, they said that the millstones were precious indeed, since they would grindout of nothing anything that the miller might wish.
So King Frode sent messengers over the world to find for him two servants who would be strong enough to grind with the millstones, and after a long, long time his messengers found him two maid-servants, who were bigger and stronger than anyone in Denmark had ever seen. But no one guessed that these were really Giant-Maidens who bore a grudge against all of the race of Odin.
Directly the Giant-Maidens were brought before Frode, and before they had rested after their long journey, or satisfied their hunger, he bade them go to the mill, and grind for him gold and peace and happiness.
"They sang and swungThe swift mill stone,And with loud voiceThey made their moan.'We grind for FrodeWealth and goldAbundant richesHe shall behold.'"
Presently Frode came into the mill to see that the new servants were performing their task diligently. And as he watched them from the shadow by the door, the maidens stayed their grinding for a while to rest.
The greedy man could not bear to see even aninstant's pause, and he came out of the shadow, and bade them, with harsh words, go on grinding, and cease not except for so long as the cuckoo was silent, or while he himself sang a song. Now it was early summer-time, and the cuckoo was calling all the day and most of the night.
So the Giant-Maidens waxed very wroth with King Frode, and as they resumed their labours they sang a song of the hardness of their lot in the household of this pitiless King.
They had been grinding out wealth and happiness and peace, but now they bade the magic stones to grind something very different.
Presently, as the great stones moved round and round, Frode, who still stood by, heard one chant in a low, sing-song voice,—
"I see a fire east of the town—the curlews awake and sound a note of warning. A host approaches in haste, to burn the dwelling of the king."
And the next took up her song,—
"No longer will Frode sit on his throne, and rule over rings of red gold and mighty millstones. Now must we grind with all our might—and, behold! red warriors come forth—and revenge, and bloodshed, and ruin."
Then Frode shook from head to foot in his terror, for he heard the tramp of a mighty host of warriors advancing from the sea. And as he looked for a way of escape, the braces of themillstones broke with the strong grinding, and fell in two. And the whole world shook and trembled with the mighty shock of that breaking.
But through the crash and din came the voices of the Giant-Maidens, loudly chanting,—
"We have turned the stone round;Though weary the maidens,See what they have ground!"
And that same night a mighty sea-king came up and slew Frode and plundered his city.
When he had sacked the city, the sea-king took on board his ship the two Giant-Maidens, and with them the broken millstones. And he bade them begin at once to grind salt, for of this he had very scanty store.
So they ground and ground; and in the middle of the night, being weary, they asked the sea-king if he had not got salt enough.
But the sea-king was hard of heart, like Frode, and he roughly bade them go on grinding. And the maidens did so, and worked to such effect that within a short time the millstones had ground out so much salt that the weight of it began to sink the ship. Down, down it sank, ship and giants and millstones, and in that spot, in the very middle of the ocean, arose a whirlpool, from whence the salt is carried north and south, east and west, throughout the waters of the earth.
And that is how the sea became salt.
One lovely summer morning, just as the sun rose, two travellers started on a journey. They were both strong young men, but one was a lazy fellow and the other was a worker.
As the first sunbeams came over the hills, they shone on a great castle standing on the heights, as far away as the eye could see. It was a wonderful and beautiful castle, all glistening towers that gleamed like marble, and glancing windows that shone like crystal. The two young men looked at it eagerly, and longed to go nearer.
Suddenly, out of the distance, something like a great butterfly, of white and gold, swept toward them. And when it came nearer, they saw that it was a most beautiful lady, robed in floating garments as fine as cobwebs and wearing on her head a crown so bright that no one could tell whether it was of diamonds or of dew. She stood, light as air, on a great, shining, golden ball, which rolled along with her, swifter than the wind. As she passed the travellers, she turned her face to them and smiled.
"Follow me!" she said.
The lazy man sat down in the grass with adiscontented sigh. "She has an easy time of it!" he said.
But the industrious man ran after the lovely lady and caught the hem of her floating robe in his grasp. "Who are you, and whither are you going?" he asked.
"I am the Fairy of Fortune," the beautiful lady said, "and that is my castle. You may reach it to-day, if you will; there is time, if you waste none. If you reach it before the last stroke of midnight, I will receive you there, and will be your friend. But if you come one second after midnight, it will be too late."
When she had said this, her robe slipped from the traveller's hand and she was gone.
The industrious man hurried back to his friend, and told him what the fairy had said.
"The idea!" said the lazy, man, and he laughed; "of course, if we had a horse there would be some chance, butwalkall that way? No, thank you!"
"Then good-bye," said his friend, "I am off." And he set out, down the road toward the shining castle, with a good steady stride, his eyes straight ahead.
The lazy man lay down in the soft grass, and looked rather wistfully at the far-away towers. "If only I had a good horse!" he sighed.
Just at that moment he felt something warm nosing about at his shoulder, and heard a littlewhinny. He turned round, and there stood a little horse! It was a dainty creature, gentle-looking, and finely built, and it was saddled and bridled.
"Hello!" said the lazy man. "Luck often comes when one isn't looking for it!" And in an instant he had leaped on the horse, and headed him for the castle of fortune. The little horse started at a fine pace, and in a very few minutes they overtook the other traveller, plodding along on foot.
"How do you like shank's pony?" laughed the lazy man, as he passed his friend.
The industrious man only nodded, and kept on with his steady stride, eyes straight ahead.
The horse kept his good pace, and by noon the towers of the castle stood out against the sky, much nearer and more beautiful. Exactly at noon, the horse turned aside from the road, into a shady grove on a hill, and stopped.
"Wise beast," said his rider: "'haste makes waste,' and all things are better in moderation. I'll follow your example, and eat and rest a bit." He dismounted and sat down in the cool moss, with his back against a tree. He had a lunch in his traveller's pouch, and he ate it comfortably. Then he felt drowsy from the heat and the early ride, so he pulled his hat over his eyes, and settled himself for a nap. "It will go all the better for a little rest," he said.
Thatwasa sleep! He slept like the seven sleepers, and he dreamed the most beautiful things you could imagine. At last, he dreamed that he had entered the castle of fortune and was being received with great festivities. Everything he wanted was brought to him, and music played while fireworks were set off in his honour. The music was so loud that he awoke. He sat up, rubbing his eyes, and behold, the fireworks were the very last rays of the setting sun, and the music was the voice of the other traveller, passing the grove on foot!
"Time to be off," said the lazy man, and looked about him for the pretty horse. No horse was to be found. The only living thing near was an old, bony, grey donkey. The man called, and whistled, and looked, but no little horse appeared. After a long while he gave it up, and, since there was nothing better to do, he mounted the old grey donkey and set out again.
The donkey was slow, and he was hard to ride, but he was better than nothing; and gradually the lazy man saw the towers of the castle draw nearer.
Now it began to grow dark; in the castle windows the lights began to show. Then came trouble! Slower, and slower, went the grey donkey; slower, and slower, till, in the very middle of a pitch-black wood, he stopped andstood still. Not a step would he budge for all the coaxing and scolding and beating his rider could give. At last the rider kicked him, as well as beat him, and at that the donkey felt that he had had enough. Up went his hind heels, and down went his head, and over it went the lazy man on to the stony ground.
There he lay groaning for many minutes, for it was not a soft place, I can assure you. How he wished he were in a soft, warm bed, with his aching bones comfortable in blankets! The very thought of it made him remember the Castle of Fortune, for he knew there must be fine beds there. To get to those beds he was even willing to bestir his poor limbs, so he sat up and felt about him for the donkey.
No donkey was to be found.
The lazy man crept round and round the spot where he had fallen, scratched his hands on the stumps, tore his face in the briers, and bumped his knees on the stones. But no donkey was there. He would have laid down to sleep again, but he could hear now the howls of hungry wolves in the woods; that it did not sound pleasant. Finally, his hand struck against something that felt like a saddle. He grasped it, thankfully, and started to mount his donkey.
The beast he took hold of seemed very small, and, as he mounted, he felt that its sides were moist and slimy. It gave him a shudder, andhe hesitated; but at that moment he heard a distant clock strike. It was striking eleven! There was still time to reach the castle of fortune, but no more than enough; so he mounted his new steed and rode on once more. The animal was easier to sit on than the donkey, and the saddle seemed remarkably high behind; it was good to lean against. But even the donkey was not so slow as this; the new steed was slower than he. After a while, however, he pushed his way out of the woods into the open, and there stood the castle, only a little way ahead! All its windows were ablaze with lights. A ray from them fell on the lazy man's beast, and he saw what he was riding: it was a gigantic snail! a snail as large as a calf!
A cold shudder ran over the lazy man's body, and he would have got off his horrid animal then and there, but just then the clock struck once more. It was the first of the long, slow strokes that mark midnight! The man grew frantic when he heard it. He drove his heels into the snail's sides, to make him hurry. Instantly, the snail drew in his head, curled up in his shell, and left the lazy man sitting in a heap on the ground!
The clock struck twice. If the man had run for it, he could still have reached the castle, but, instead, he sat still and shouted for a horse.
"A beast, a beast!" he wailed, "any kind of a beast that will take me to the castle!"
The clock struck three times. And as it struck the third note, something came rustling and rattling out of the darkness, something that sounded like a horse with harness. The lazy man jumped on its back, a very queer, low back. As he mounted, he saw the doors of the castle open, and saw his friend standing on the threshold, waving his cap and beckoning to him.
The clock struck four times, and the new steed began to stir; as it struck five, he moved a pace forward; as it struck six, he stopped; as it struck seven, he turned himself about; as it struck eight, he began to move backward, away from the castle!
The lazy man shouted, and beat him, but the beast went slowly backward. And the clock struck nine. The man tried to slide off, then, but from all sides of his strange animal great arms came reaching up and held him fast. And in the next ray of moonlight that broke the dark clouds, he saw that he was mounted on a monster crab!
One by one, the lights went out, in the castle windows. The clock struck ten. Backward went the crab. Eleven! Still the crab went backward. The clock struck twelve! Then the great doors shut with a clang, and the castle of fortune was closed for ever to the lazy man.
What became of him and his crab no one knows to this day, and no one cares. But the industrious man was received by the Fairy of Fortune, and made happy in the castle as long as he wanted to stay. And ever afterward she was his friend, helping him not only to happiness for himself, but also showing him how to help others, wherever he went.
A long time ago, there was a boy named David, who lived in a country in the Far East. He was good to look upon, for he had fair hair and a ruddy skin; and he was very strong and brave and modest. He was shepherd-boy for his father, and all day—often all night—he was out in the fields, far from home, watching over the sheep. He had to guard them from wild animals, and lead them to the right pastures, and care for them.
By and by, war broke out between the people of David's country and a people that lived near at hand; these men were called Philistines, and the people of David's country were named Israelites. All the strong men ofIsrael went up to the battle, to fight for their king. David's three older brothers went, but he was only a boy, so he was left behind to care for the sheep.
After the brothers had been gone some time, David's father longed very much to hear from them, and to know if they were safe; so he sent for David, from the fields, and said to him, "Take now for thy brothers an ephah of this parched corn, and these ten loaves, and run to the camp, where thy brothers are; and carry these ten cheeses to the captain of their thousand, and see how thy brothers fare, and bring me word again." (An ephah is about three pecks.)
David rose early in the morning, and left the sheep with a keeper, and took the corn and the loaves and the cheeses, as his father had commanded him, and went to the camp of the Israelites.
The camp stood on a mountain on the one side, and the Philistines stood on a mountain on the other side; and there was a valley between. David came to the place where the Israelites were, just as the host was going forth to the fight, shouting for the battle. So he left his gifts in the hands of the keeper of the baggage, and ran into the army, amongst the soldiers, to find his brothers. When he found them, he saluted them and began to talk with them.
But while he was asking them the questions his father had commanded, there arose a great shouting and tumult among the Israelites, and men came running back from the front line of battle; everything became confusion. David looked to see what the trouble was, and he saw a strange sight: down the slope of the opposite mountain came striding a Philistine warrior, calling out something in a taunting voice; he was a gigantic man, the largest David had ever seen, and he was covered with armour, that shone in the sun: he had a helmet of brass upon his head, and he was armed with a coat of mail, and he had greaves of brass upon his legs, and a target of brass between his shoulders; his spear was so tremendous that the staff of it was like a weaver's beam, and his shield so great that a man went before him, to carry it.
"Who is that?" asked David.
"It is Goliath, of Gath, champion of the Philistines," said the soldiers about. "Every day, for forty days, he has come forth, so, and challenged us to send a man against him, in single combat; and since no one dares to go out against him alone, the armies cannot fight." (That was one of the laws of warfare in those times.)
"What!" said David, "does none dare go out against him?"
As he spoke, the giant stood still, on the hillside opposite the host of Israel, and shouted his challenge, scornfully. He said, "Why are ye come out to set your battle in array? Am I not a Philistine, and ye servants of Saul? Choose you a man, and let him come down to me. If he be able to fight with me, and to kill me, then will we be your servants; but if I prevail against him, and kill him, then shall ye be our servants, and serve us. I defy the armies of Israel this day; give me a man, that we may fight together!"
When King Saul heard these words, he was dismayed, and all the men of Israel, when they saw the man, fled from him and were sore afraid. David heard them talking among themselves, whispering and murmuring. They were saying, "Have ye seen this man that is come up? Surely if anyone killeth him that man will the king make rich; perhaps he will give him his daughter in marriage, and make his family free in Israel!"
David heard this, and he asked the men if it were so. It was surely so, they said.
"But," said David, "who is this Philistine, that he should defy the armies of the living God?" And he was stirred with anger.
Very soon, some of the officers told the king about the youth who was asking so many questions, and who said that it was shame upon Israel that a mere Philistine should defy thearmies of the living God. Immediately Saul sent for him. When David came before Saul, he said to the king, "Let no man's heart fail because of him; thy servant will go and fight with this Philistine."
But Saul looked at David, and said, "Thou art not able to go against this Philistine, to fight with him, for thou art but a youth, and he has been a man of war from his youth."
Then David said to Saul, "Once I was keeping my father's sheep, and there came a lion, and a bear, and took a lamb out of the flock; and I went out after the lion, and struck him; and delivered the lamb out of his mouth, and when he arose against me, I caught him by the beard, and struck him, and slew him! Thy servant slew both the lion and the bear; and this Philistine shall be as one of them, for he hath defied the armies of the living God. The Lord, who delivered me out of the paw of the lion and out of the paw of the bear, he will deliver me out of the hand of this Philistine."
"Go," said Saul, "and the Lord be with thee!"
And he armed David with his own armour,—he put a helmet of brass upon his head, and armed him with a coat of mail. But when David girded his sword upon his armour, and tried to walk, he said to Saul, "I cannot go with these, for I am not used to them." And he put them off.
Then he took his staff in his hand and went and chose five smooth stones out of the brook, and put them in a shepherd's bag which he had; and his sling was in his hand; and he went out and drew near to the Philistine.
And the Philistine came on and drew near to David; and the man that bore his shield went before him. And when the Philistine looked about and saw David, he disdained him, for David was but a boy, and ruddy, and of a fair countenance. And he said to David, "Am I a dog, that thou comest to me with a cudgel?" And with curses he cried out again, "Come to me, and I will give thy flesh unto the fowls of the air, and to the beasts of the field."
But David looked at him, and answered, "Thou comest to me with a sword, and with a spear, and with a shield; but I come to thee in the name of the Lord of hosts, the God of the armies of Israel, whom thou hast defied. This day will the Lord deliver thee into my hand, and I will smite thee, and take thy head from thee, and I will give the carcasses of the host of the Philistines this day unto the fowls of the air, and to the wild beasts of the earth, that all the earth may know that there is a God in Israel! And all this assembly shall know that the Lord saveth not with sword and spear; for the battle is the Lord's, and he will give you into our hands."
And then, when the Philistine arose, and came, and drew nigh to meet David, David made haste and ran toward the army to meet the Philistine. And when he was a little way from him, he put his hand in his bag, and took from thence a stone, and put it in his sling, and slung it, and smote the Philistine in the forehead, so that the stone sank into his forehead; and he fell on his face to the earth.
And David ran, and stood upon the Philistine, and took his sword, and drew it out of its sheath, and slew him with it.
Then, when the Philistines saw that their champion was dead, they fled. But the army of Israel pursued them, and victory was with the men of Israel.
And after the battle, David was taken to the king's tent, and made a captain over many men; and he went no more to his father's house, to herd the sheep, but became a man, in the king's service.
David had many fierce battles to fight for King Saul against the enemies of Israel, and he won them all. Then, later, he had to fight against the king's own soldiers, to save himself, for King Saul grew wickedly jealous of David's fame as a soldier, and tried to kill him. Twice, when David had a chance to kill the king, heforbore to harm him; but even then, Saul continued trying to take his life, and David was kept away from his home as if he were an enemy.
But when King Saul died, the people chose David for their king, because there was no one so brave, so wise, or so faithful to God. King David lived a long time, and made his people famous for victory and happiness; he had many troubles and many wars, but he always trusted that God would help him, and he never deserted his own people in any hard place.
After a battle, or when it was a holiday, or when he was very thankful for something, King David used to make songs, and sing them before the people. Some of these songs were so beautiful that they have never been forgotten. After all these hundreds and hundred of years, we sing them still; we call them Psalms.
Often, after David had made a song, his chief musician would sing with him, as the people gathered to worship God. Sometimes the singers were divided into two great choruses, and went to the service in two processions; then one chorus would sing a verse of David's song, and the other procession would answer with the next, and then both would sing together; it was very beautiful to hear. Even now, we sometimes do that with the songs of David in our churches.
One of his Psalms that everybody loves is a song that David made when he rememberedthe days before he came to Saul's camp. He remembered the days and nights he used to spend in the fields with the sheep, when he was just a shepherd-boy; and he thought to himself that God had taken care of him just as carefully as he himself used to care for the little lambs. It is a beautiful song; I wish we knew the music that David made for it, but we only know his words. I will tell it to you now, and then you may learn it, to say for yourselves.
The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.He maketh me to lie down in green pastures; he leadeth me beside the still waters.He restoreth my soul; he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life; and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.
The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures; he leadeth me beside the still waters.
He restoreth my soul; he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life; and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.
This is a legend about a hermit who lived long ago. He lived high up on the mountainside in a tiny cave; his food was roots and acorns, a bit of bread given by a peasant, or a cheese brought by a woman who wanted his prayers; his work was praying, and thinking about God. For forty years he lived so, preaching to the people, praying for them, comforting them in trouble, and, most of all, worshipping in his heart. There was just one thing he cared about: it was to make his soul so pure and perfect that it could be one of the stones in God's great Temple of Heaven.
One day, after the forty years, he had a great longing to know how far along he had got with his work,—how it looked to the Heavenly Father. And he prayed that he might be shown a man—
"Whose soul in the heavenly grace had grownTo the selfsame measure as his own;Whose treasure on the celestial shoreCould neither be less than his nor more."
As he looked up from his prayer, a white-robed angel stood in the path before him. Thehermit bowed before the messenger with great gladness, for he knew that his wish was answered. "Go to the nearest town," the angel said, "and there, in the public square, you will find a mountebank (a clown) making the people laugh for money. He is the man you seek; his soul has grown to the selfsame stature as your own; his treasure on the celestial shore is neither less than yours nor more."
When the angel had faded from sight, the hermit bowed his head again, but this time with great sorrow and fear. Had his forty years of prayer been a terrible mistake, and was his soul indeed like a clown, fooling in the market-place? He knew not what to think. Almost he hoped he should not find the man, and could believe that he had dreamed the angel vision. But when he came, after a long, tiring walk to the village, and the square, alas! there was the clown, doing his silly tricks for the crowd.
The hermit stood and looked at him with terror and sadness, for he felt that he was looking at his own soul. The face he saw was thin and tired, and though it kept a smile or a grin for the people, it seemed very sad to the hermit. Soon the man felt the hermit's eyes; he could not go on with his tricks. And when he had stopped and the crowd had left, the hermit went and drew the man aside to a place where they could rest; for he wanted more than anythingelse on earth to know what the man's soul was like, because what it was, his was.
So, after a little, he asked the clown, very gently, what his life was, what it had been. And the clown answered, very sadly, that it was just as it looked,—a life of foolish tricks, for that was the only way of earning his bread that he knew.
"But have you never been anything different?" asked the hermit, painfully.
The clown's head sank in his hands. "Yes, holy father," he said, "I have been something else. I was a thief! I once belonged to the most wicked band of mountain robbers that ever tormented the land, and I was as wicked as the worst."
Alas! The hermit felt that his heart was breaking. Was this how he looked to the Heavenly Father—like a thief, a cruel mountain robber? He could hardly speak, and the tears streamed from his old eyes, but he gathered strength to ask one more question. "I beg you," he said, "if you have ever done a single good deed in your life, remember it now, and tell it to me"; for he thought that even one good deed would save him from utter despair.
"Yes, one," the clown said, "but it was so small, it is not worth telling; my life has been worthless."
"Tell me that one!" pleaded the hermit.
"Once," said the man, "our band broke into a convent garden and stole away one of the nuns, to sell as a slave or to keep for a ransom. We dragged her with us over the rough, long way to our mountain camp, and set a guard over her for the night. The poor thing prayed to us so piteously to let her go! And as she begged, she looked from one hard face to another, with trusting, imploring eyes, as if she could not believe men could be really bad. Father, when her eyes met mine something pierced my heart! Pity and shame leaped up, for the first time, within me. But I made my face as hard and cruel as the rest, and she turned away, hopeless.
"When all was dark and still, I stole like a cat to where she lay bound. I put my hand on her wrist and whispered, 'Trust me, and I will take you safely home.' I cut her bonds with my knife, and she looked at me to show that she trusted. Father, by terrible ways that I knew, hidden from the others, I took her safe to the convent gate. She knocked; they opened; and she slipped inside. And, as she left me, she turned and said, 'God will remember.'
"That was all. I could not go back to the old bad life, and I had never learned an honest way to earn my bread. So I became a clown, and must be a clown until I die."
"No! no! my son," cried the hermit, and now his tears were tears of joy. "God has remembered; your soul is in his sight even as mine, who have prayed and preached for forty years. Your treasure waits for you on the heavenly shore just as mine does."
"Asyours? Father, you mock me!" said the clown.
But when the hermit told him the story of his prayer and the angel's answer, the poor clown was transfigured with joy, for he knew that his sins were forgiven. And when the hermit went home to his mountain, the clown went with him. He, too, became a hermit, and spent his time in praise and prayer.
Together they lived, and worked, and helped the poor. And when, after two years, the man who had been a clown died, the hermit felt that he had lost a brother more holy than himself.
For ten years more the hermit lived in his mountain hut, thinking always of God, fasting and praying, and doing no least thing that was wrong. Then, one day, the wish once more came, to know how his work was growing, and once more he prayed that he might see a being—
"Whose soul in the heavenly grace had grownTo the selfsame measure as his own;Whose treasure on the celestial shoreCould neither be less than his nor more."
Once more his prayer was answered. The angel came to him, and told him to go to acertain village on the other side of the mountain, and to a small farm in it, where two women lived. In them he should find two souls like his own, in God's sight.
When the hermit came to the door of the little farm, the two women who lived there were overjoyed to see him, for everyone loved and honoured his name. They put a chair for him on the cool porch, and brought food and drink. But the hermit was too eager to wait. He longed greatly to know what the souls of the two women were like, and from their looks he could see only that they were gentle and honest. One was old, and the other of middle age.
Presently he asked them about their lives. They told him the little there was to tell: they had worked hard always, in the fields with their husbands, or in the house; they had many children; they had seen hard times,—sickness, sorrow; but they had never despaired.
"But what of your good deeds," the hermit asked,—"what have you done for God?"
"Very little," they said, sadly, for they were too poor to give much. To be sure, twice every year, when they killed a sheep for food, they gave half to their poorer neighbours.
"That is very good, very faithful," the hermit said. "And is there any other good deed you have done?"
"Nothing," said the older woman, "unless,unless—it might be called a good deed——" She looked at the younger woman, who smiled back at her.
"What?" said the hermit.
Still the woman hesitated; but at last she said, timidly, "It is not much to tell, father, only this, that it is twenty years since my sister-in-law and I came to live together in the house; we have brought up our families here; and in all the twenty years there has never been a cross word between us, or a look that was less than kind."
The hermit bent his head before the two women, and gave thanks in his heart. "If my soul is as these," he said, "I am blessed indeed."
And suddenly a great light came into the hermit's mind, and he saw how many ways there are of serving God. Some serve him in churches and in hermits' cells, by praise and prayer; some poor souls who have been very wicked turn from their wickedness with sorrow, and serve him with repentance; some live faithfully and gently in humble homes, working, bringing up children, keeping kind and cheerful; some bear pain patiently, for His sake. Endless, endless ways there are, that only the Heavenly Father sees.
And so, as the hermit climbed the mountain again, he thought,—
"As he saw the star-like glowOf light, in the cottage windows far,How many God's hidden servants are!"
Across the North Sea, in a country called Germany, lived a little boy named Gottlieb. His father had died when he was but a baby, and although from early morning till late at night his mother sat plying her needle, she found it difficult indeed to provide food and clothing and shelter for her little boy and herself.
Gottlieb was not old enough to work, but he would often sit on a small stool at his mother's feet and dream about the wonderful things he would do for his dear mother when he grew to be a man, and she was comforted as she looked upon her boy, and the thought that she was working for him often gave strength to her tired fingers.
But one night Gottlieb saw that his mother was more than usually troubled. Every now and then she would sigh, and a tear would trickle down her cheek. The little boy had grown quick to read these signs of distress, andhe thought, "Christmas will be here soon, and dear mother is thinking of what a sad time it will be."
What would Gottlieb have given to be able to comfort his mother! He could only sit and brood, while his young heart swelled and a lump rose in his throat at the thought that he could do nothing.
Presently, however, a happy fancy came to him. Was not the Christ Child born on Christmas Day, and did not He send good gifts to men on His birthday? But then came the thought, "He will never find us. Our home is so mean and small." It seemed foolish to hope, but a boy is not long cast down, and as Gottlieb sat dreaming, a happy inspiration came to him. Stealing softly from the room he took paper and pen, for he had learnt to write, and spelt out, word after word, a letter which he addressed to the Christ Child.
You may be sure that the postman was puzzled what to do with this letter when he sorted it out of the heap in the letter-box. Perhaps the Burgomaster would know the right thing to do? So the postman took the letter to the great burly man who lived in the big house and wore a gold chain round his neck. The Burgomaster opened the envelope, and as he read the letter written in the trembling hand of a child, tears came into his eyes. But he spoke gruffly enoughto the postman, "This must be a foolish boy; a small one, I have no doubt."
Soon Christmas morning dawned, and Gottlieb woke very early. But others were up before him, for, to his surprise, he saw a strange gentleman with his mother. His wondering eyes soon perceived other unusual objects, for the hearth was piled with wood, and the table was loaded with food and dainties such as he had never even imagined.
Gottlieb entered the room just as his mother threw herself at the stranger's feet to bless him for his generous goodness to the widow and orphan. "Nay, give me no thanks, worthy dame," said the visitor. "Rather be grateful to your little son, and to the good Lord to whom he wrote for aid."
Then he turned to Gottlieb with a smile, "You see that although you wrote to the Christ Child, your prayer for aid came only to the Burgomaster. The gifts you asked for are here, but they come from my hand." But Gottlieb answered him humbly, "Nay, sir, the Christ Child sent them, for He put the thought in your heart."
When you stand round the Christmas tree and look longingly at the toys hanging from the prickly branches, it does not occur to you to ask why it is always this particular tree that is so honoured at Christmas. The dark green Fir looks so majestic when laden with bright toys and lit up by Christmas candles, that perhaps it is not easy to believe that it is the most modest of trees. But so it is, and because of its humility it was chosen to bear Christmas gifts to the children. This is the story:
When the Christ Child was born, all people, animals, trees, and other plants felt that a great happiness had come into the world. And truly, the Heavenly Father had sent with the Holy Babe His blessings of Peace and Goodwill to all. Every day people came to see the sweet Babe, bringing presents in their hands. By the stable wherein lay the Christ Child stood three trees, and as the people came and went under their spreading branches, they thought that they, too, would like to give presents to the Child.
Said the Palm, "I will choose my biggest leaf and place it as a fan beside the manger to waft soft air to the Child."
"And I," said the Olive, "I will sprinkle sweet-smelling oil over Him."
"What can I give to the Child?" asked the Fir.
"You?" said the others. "You have nothing to offer. Your needles would prick the wee Babe, and your tears are sticky."
This made the poor Fir very unhappy indeed, and it said, sadly, "Yes, you are right. I have nothing that would be good enough to offer to the Christ Child."
Now, quite near to the trees had stood an Angel, who had heard all that had passed. He was moved to pity the Fir, who was so lowly and without envy of the other trees, and he resolved to help it.
High in the dark of the heavens the stars were beginning to twinkle, and the Angel begged some of the little ones to come down and rest upon the branches of the Fir. This they were glad to do, and their silvery light shone among the branches just like Christmas candles. From where He lay the Christ Child could see the great dark evening world and the darker forms of the trees keeping watch, like faithful guardians, beside the open door of the stable; and to its delight the Fir Tree saw the face of the Babe illumined with a heavenly smile as He looked upon the twinkling lights.
The Christ Child did not forget the lovelysight, and long afterward he bade that to celebrate His birthday there should be placed in every house a Fir Tree, which might be lit up with candles to shine for the children as the stars shone for Him on His first birthday.
Was not the Fir Tree richly rewarded for its meekness? Surely there is no other tree that shines on so many happy faces!
A costly Diamond, that had once sparkled in a lady's ring, lay in a field amid tall grasses and oxeye daisies.
Just above it, was a big Dewdrop that clung timidly to a nodding grass-blade.
Overhead, the blazing sun shone in all his noonday glory.
Ever since the first pink blush of dawn, the modest Dewdrop had gazed fixedly down upon the rich gem, but feared to address a person of such exalted consequence.
At last, a large Beetle, during his rambles, chanced to espy the Diamond, and he also recognised him to be some one of great rank and importance.
"Sire," he said, making a low bow, "permit your humble servant to offer you greeting."
"Tha—nks," responded the Diamond in languid tones of affectation.
As the Beetle raised his head from his profound bow, his gaze happened to alight upon the Dewdrop.
"A relative of yours, I presume, Sire?" he remarked affably, waving one of his feelers in the direction of the Dewdrop.
The Diamond burst into a rude, contemptuous laugh.
"Quitetooabsurd, I declare!" he exclaimed loftily. "But there, whatcanyou expect from a low, grovelling beetle? Away, sir, pass on! Your very presence is distasteful to me. Theideaof placing ME upon the same level—in the same family, as a low-born, mean, insignificant, utterly valueless——" Here the Diamond fairly choked for breath.
"But has he not beauty exactly like your own, Sire?" the Beetle ventured to interpose, though with a very timid air.
"BEAU—TY!" flashed the Diamond, with fine disdain—"the impudent fellow merely apes and imitates ME. However, it is some small consolation to remember that 'Imitation is the sincerest flattery.' But, evenallowinghim to possess it, mere beauty withoutrankis ridiculous and worthless. A Boat withoutwater—a Carriage, but nohorses—a Well, but never awinch: such is beauty without rank and wealth! Thereis noreal worthapart from rank and wealth. Combine Beauty, Rank,andWealth, and you have the whole world at your feet. Now you know the secret of the world worshipping ME."
And the Diamond sparkled and gleamed with vivid, violet flashes, so that the Beetle was glad to shade his eyes.
The poor Dewdrop had listened silently to all that had passed, and felt so wounded, that at last he wished he never had been born. Slowly a bright tear fell and splashed the dust.
Just then, a Skylark fluttered to the ground and eagerly darted his beak at the Diamond.
"Alas!" he piped, with a great sob of disappointment. "What I thought to be a precious dewdrop is only a worthless diamond. My throat is parched for want of water. I must die of thirst!"
"Really? The world will never get over your loss," cruelly sneered the Diamond.
But a sudden and noble resolve came to the Dewdrop. Deeply did he repent his foolish wish.He could now lay down his life that the life of another might be saved!
"MayIhelp you, please?" he gently asked.
The Lark raised his drooping head.
"Oh, my precious, precious friend, if you will, you can save my life!"
"Open your mouth then."
And the Dewdrop slid from the blade of grass,tumbled into the parched beak, and was eagerly swallowed.
"Ah—well, well!" pondered the Beetle as he continued his homeward way. "I've been taught a lesson that I shall not easily forget. Yes, yes! Simple worth is far better than rank or wealth without modesty and unselfishness—and there is notruebeauty where these virtues are absent!"