Whether John or JanBe the better man,
Whether John or JanBe the better man,
Whether John or JanBe the better man,
Whether John or Jan
Be the better man,
as one of their favorite songs worded it.
Neither side, certainly, lost any time inbeginning. The sturdy Hollanders did not wait even for a summons to surrender. The foremost English ship had barely dropped her anchor in front of the Zwart Steen Battery, when there was a red flash from the old gray wall, a loud bang, and then a cannon-ball came tearing through the foretopsail, and splashed into the water far beyond. Bang went the Englishman’s whole broadside in return, and the balls were heard rattling among the rocks, or crashing into the front of the breastwork; and now the fight began in earnest.
Fire, smoke, flying shot, crashing timbers, deafening uproar, multiplied a thousand-fold by the echoes of the surrounding hills—it was a hard fight, for there were Dutchmen behind those batteries who had swept the Channel with Van Tromp, and there were Englishmen aboard those ships who had fought him and his men, yardarm to yardarm, under Robert Blake; and it would have been hard to tell which were the braver or the more stubborn of the two.
“Fire away, boys, for the honor of Old England!†shouted Captain Richard Munden, pacing up and down the quarter-deckof the British flagship amid a hail of shot.
“Stand to it, my sons, as if Father Van Tromp were with you still!†cried the brave old Dutch commandant, Pieter Van Gebhardt, as he leveled a gun with his own hands over the fast-crumbling parapet. “Fear not for the fire and smoke; it is but the Englishman lighting his pipe.â€
Both sides fought stoutly, and men began to fall fast; but it seemed as if on the whole the Dutch were getting the best of it. The ships, lying out upon the smooth water, made an excellent mark, while the rock-cut batteries could hardly be distinguished from the cliff itself.
But just at that moment a very unexpected turn of fortune changed the whole face of the battle.
To explain clearly how this happened we must go back a little way.
The Dutch garrison had given their whole attention to the attack in front, feeling sure that this was the only point from which they could be assailed. And they reasoned well; for everywhere else the coast was merely one great precipice of several hundred feet, risingso sheer out of the sea that it seemed as if nothing without wings could possibly scale it.
But they might, perhaps, have been less confident had they seen what was going on just then at the opposite side of the island.
When the English ships first advanced to the attack, the hindmost of them, while still hidden from the Dutch by the huge black pyramid of Sugar-loaf Point, had lowered several large boats filled with armed men, which instantly shot away round the great rocky bluff of “the Barn†as fast as eight oars apiece could carry them.
Away they went, past headland after headland, while every eye was fixed upon the rocky shore, as if seeking something which was not easily to be found.
At length, just when they rounded the bold, craggy promontory of King and Queen point, a dull boom reached their ears, followed instantly by the thunder of a sustained cannonade. At that familiar sound the sailors clenched their teeth savagely, as they looked up at the tremendous precipices that seemed to shut them out from all hope of taking part in the battle.
“Can’t we get up anywhere?†growled thecaptain, of the frigate, who was in the foremost boat. “We’re disgraced forever if they do the job without us.â€
“With your honor’s leave,†broke in a stalwart young topman, touching his thick brown forelock, “I think I could get up that rock yonder, and fasten a rope for the rest to climb by.â€
“What! up there?†cried the captain, glancing doubtfully from the young sailor’s bright, fearless face to the tremendous height above. “Well, my lad, if you can do it, I’ll give you fifty guineas!â€
“It’s for the honor of the flag, not for the money, sir!†answered the seaman, springing from the boat to the lowest ledge of the terrible rock.
Up, up, up, ever higher he clambered, with the rising wind flinging his loose hair to and fro, and the startled sea-birds whirling around him with hoarse screams of mingled fear and rage. To the watching eyes far below, the tiny points of rock to which he clung were quite invisible, and he seemed to be hanging in mid-air, like a fly on the side of a wall.
And now he was two-thirds of the way upthe precipice; and now he was within a few yards of the top; and now his hand almost touched the highest ledge, when suddenly his feet were seen to slide from under him, and in a moment he was swinging in the empty air, grasping a projecting crag with the strength of desperation.
“Hold fast, Tom!†yelled his comrades, as they saw him.
Tom did hold fast, and the strong hands that had defied the full fury of an Atlantic gale to loosen them from the slippery rigging did him good service once more. He regained his footing, and the indrawn breath of the anxious gazers below sounded like a hiss in the grim silence as they watched the final effort that brought him safely to the top.
The rope was soon fixed, and the last man had scarcely mounted when the daring band were hurrying across the ridgy interior of the island toward the spot whence the cannonade still boomed upon the evening air. And there it was at last, as they crowned the farthest ridge, the tall masts standing up through billowy smoke, and the batteries marked out amid the gathering darkness by the flashes of their own cannon. A deadlyvolley of English musketry cracked along the cliff, and several of the Dutch were seen to fall while dismay and confusion spread fast among the survivors. Thus, caught between two fires, with the British ships thundering upon them from below, and the British marksmen shooting them down from above, the defenders had no chance; and at length brave old Van Gebhardt, with a look of bitter grief on his iron face, slowly hauled down the Dutch flag in token of surrender.
“Mynheer,†said he to the English captain, as the latter came marching into the fort at the head of his men, “my followers have done all that men could do; but yours have done more.â€
“And if we had not done more, we could never have beaten the gallant Dutchmen,†answered the captain, taking off his battered cocked hat with a polite bow.
Thus it was that the English regained St. Helena, over which the British flag flies to this day. Nor has the brave fellow who led that daring attack been forgotten, for the crag which he scaled (and a very grim-looking crag it is) still goes by the name of “Hold-Fast Tom.â€
[Nils Holgarsson, a young boy, has been traveling high over the country in company with a wild goose. He is blown from her back during a hard wind, and alights among the iron mines. He is discovered by bears and taken to their cave.]
[Nils Holgarsson, a young boy, has been traveling high over the country in company with a wild goose. He is blown from her back during a hard wind, and alights among the iron mines. He is discovered by bears and taken to their cave.]
Father Bear pushed Mother Bear aside.
“Don’t meddle with what you don’t understand!†he roared. “Can’t you scent that human odor about him from afar? I shall eat him at once, or he will play us some mean trick.â€
He opened his jaws again; but meanwhile Nils had had time to think, and, quick as a flash, he dug into his knapsack and brought forth some matches—his sole weapon of defense—struck one on his leather breeches, and stuck the burning match into the bear’s open mouth.
Father Bear snorted when he smelled the burning sulphur, and with that the flame went out. The boy was ready with another match, but, curiously enough, Father Bear did not repeat his attack.
“Can you light many of those little blue roses?†asked Father Bear.
“I can light enough to put an end to the whole forest,†replied the boy, for he thought that in this way he might be able to scare Father Bear.
“Perhaps you could also set fire to houses and barns?†said Father Bear.
“Oh, that would be no trick for me!†boasted the boy, hoping that this would make the bear respect him.
“Good!†exclaimed the bear. “You shall render me a service. Now, I’m very glad that I did not eat you.â€
Father Bear carefully took the boy between his tusks and climbed up from the pit. As soon as he was up he speedily made for the woods. It was evident that Father Bear was created to squeeze through dense forests. The heavy body pushed through the brushwood as a boat does through the water.
Father Bear ran along till he came to a hill at the skirt of the forest, where he could see the big noise-shop. Here he lay down and placed the boy in front of him, holding him securely between his forepaws.
“Now look down at that big noise-shop!†he commanded.
The great iron works, with many tall buildings,stood at the edge of a waterfall. High chimneys sent forth dark clouds of smoke, blasting furnaces were in full blaze, and light shone from all the windows and apertures. Within, hammers and rolling mills were going with such force that the air rang with their clatter and boom. Just beyond the workshops were long rows of workingmen’s homes, pretty villas, schoolhouses, assembly halls, and shops. But there all was quiet and apparently everybody was asleep. The boy did not glance in that direction, but gazed intently at the iron works. The earth around them was black; the sky above them was like a great fiery dome; the rapids, white with foam, rushed by; while the buildings themselves were sending out light and smoke, fire and sparks. It was the grandest sight the boy had ever seen.
“Surely you don’t mean to say you can set fire to a place like that?†remarked the bear doubtingly.
The boy, wedged between the beast’s paws, was thinking the only thing that might save him would be that the bear should have a high opinion of his capability and power.
“It’s all the same to me,†he answeredwith a superior air. “Big or little, I can burn it down.â€
“Then I’ll tell you something,†said Father Bear. “My forefathers lived in this region from the time that the forests first sprang up. From them I inherited hunting grounds and pastures, lairs and retreats, and have lived here in peace all my life. In the beginning I wasn’t troubled much by the human kind. They dug in the mountains and picked up a little ore down here by the rapids; they had a forge and a furnace, but the hammers sounded only a few hours during the day, and the furnace was not fired more than two moons at a stretch. It wasn’t so bad but that I could stand it; but these last years, since they have built this noise shop, which keeps up the same racket both day and night, life here has become intolerable. There are so many people that I never feel safe from them. I thought that I should have to move away, but I have discovered something better!â€
The boy wondered what Father Bear had hit upon, but no opportunity was afforded him to ask, as the bear took him between his forepaws and held him up.
“Try to look into the house!†he commanded. A strong current of air was forced into a big cylinder which was suspended from the ceiling and filled with molten iron. As this current rushed into the mess of iron with an awful roar, showers of sparks of all colours spurted up in bunches, in sprays, in long clusters! They struck against the wall and came splashing down over the whole big room. Father Bear let the boy watch the gorgeous spectacle until the blowing was over and the flowing and sparkling red steel had been poured into ingot moulds.
The boy was completely charmed by the marvellous display and almost forgot that he was imprisoned between a bear’s two paws.
“I call that real man’s work!†the boy remarked to himself.
The bear then let the boy have a peep at the furnace and the forge, and he became more and more astonished as he saw how the blacksmiths handled iron and fire.
“Those men have no fear of heat and flames,†he thought. The workmen were sooty and grimy. He fancied they were some sort of firefolk—that was why they couldbend and mould the iron as they wished. He could not believe that they were just ordinary men, since they had such power!
“They keep this up day after day, night after night,†said Father Bear, as he dropped wearily down on the ground. “You can understand that one gets rather tired of that kind of thing. I’m mighty glad that at last I can put an end to it!â€
“Indeed!†said the boy. “How will you go about it?â€
“Oh, I thought that you were going to set fire to the buildings!†said Father Bear. “That would put an end to all this work, and I could remain in my old home.â€
The boy was all of a shiver.
So, it was for this that Father Bear had brought him here!
“If you will set fire to the noise-works I’ll promise to spare your life,†said Father Bear. “But if you don’t do it, I’ll make short work of you! Will you or won’t you?â€
The boy knew that he ought to answer promptly that he would not, but he also knew that then the bear’s paws would squeeze him to death; therefore he replied:
“I shall have to think it over.â€
“Very well, do so,†assented Father Bear. “Let me say to you that iron is the thing that has given men the advantage over us bears, which is another reason for my wishing to put an end to the work here.â€
The boy thought he would use the delay to figure out a way of escape, but instead he began to think of the great help that iron had been to mankind. They needed iron for everything. There was iron in the plow that broke up the field; in the axe that felled the tree for building houses; in the scythe that mowed the grain; and in the knife, which would be turned to all sorts of uses. There was iron in the horse’s bit, in the lock on the door, in the nails that held furniture together. The rifle that drove away wild beasts was made of iron; iron covered the men-of-war; the locomotives steamed through the country on iron rails; the needle that had stitched his coat was of iron; the shears that clipped the sheep and the kettle that cooked the food. Father Bear was perfectly right in saying that it was the iron that had given men their mastery over the bears.
“Now will you or won’t you?†Father Bear repeated.
The boy was startled from his musing.
“You mustn’t be so impatient,†he said. “This is a serious matter for me, and I’ve got to have time to consider.â€
“I can wait a little longer,†said Father Bear. “But after that you’ll get no more grace.â€
The boy swept his hand across his forehead. No plan of escape had as yet come to his mind, but this much he knew—he did not wish to do any harm to the iron, which was so useful to rich and poor alike, and which gave bread to so many people in this land.
“Come, come!†growled the bear. “Will you or won’t you?â€
“I won’t!†said the boy.
Father Bear squeezed him a little harder, but said nothing.
“You’ll not get me to destroy the iron works!†defied the boy. “The iron is so great a blessing that it will never do to harm it.â€
“Then, of course, you don’t expect to be allowed to live very long?†said the bear.
“No, I don’t expect it,†returned the boy, looking the bear straight in the eye.
Father Bear gripped him a little harder.
But just then the boy heard something click very close to them, and saw the muzzle of a rifle two paces away.
“Father Bear! Don’t you hear the clicking of a trigger?†cried the boy. “Run, or you’ll be shot!â€
Father Bear grew terribly hurried. He thought he heard hounds and hunters pursuing him.
But the boy stood in the forest, free and unharmed, and could hardly understand how it was possible.
Jericho Bob, when he was four years old, hoped that one day he might be allowed to eat just as much turkey as he possibly could. He was eight now, but that hope had not been realized.
Mrs. Jericho Bob, his mother, kept hens for a living, and she expected that they would lay enough eggs in the course of time to help her son to an independent career as a boot-black.
They lived in a tumbledown house in awaste of land near the steam cars, and besides her hens, Mrs. Bob owned a goat.
Our story has, however, nothing to do with the goat except to say he was there, and that he was on nibbling terms, not only with Jericho Bob, but with Bob’s bosom friend, Julius Caesar Fish, and it was surprising how many old hat-brims and other tidbits of clothing he could swallow during a day.
As Mrs. Bob truly said, it was no earthly use to get something new for Jericho, even if she could afford it; for the goat browsed all over him, and had been known to carry away even a leg of his trousers.
Jericho Bob was eight years old, and the friend of his bosom, Julius Caesar Fish, was nine. They both, were of a lovely black; a tallow-dip couldn’t take the kink out of their hair, and the hardest whipping did not disturb the even cheerfulness of their spirits. They were so much alike that if it hadn’t been for Jericho’s bow-legs and his turn-up nose, you really could not have told them apart.
A kindred taste for turkey also united them.
In honor of Thanksgiving Day, Mrs. Bobalways sacrificed a hen which would, but for such blessed release, have died of old age. One drumstick was given to Jericho, whose interior remained an unsatisfied void.
Jericho Bob had heard of turkey as a fowl larger, sweeter, and more tender than hen; and about Thanksgiving time he would linger around the provision stores and gaze with open mouth at the noble array of turkeys hanging, head downward, over bushels of cranberries, as if even at that uncooked stage, they were destined for one another. And turkey was his dream.
It was springtime, and the hens were being a credit to themselves. Mrs. Bob was laid up with rheumatism.
“Jericho Bob!†she said to her son, shaking her red and yellow turban at him, “Jericho Bob, you go down an’ fetch de eggs today. Ef I find yer don’t bring me twenty-three, I’ll—well, never mind what I’ll do, but yer won’t like it.â€
Now, Jericho Bob meant to be honest, but the fact was he found twenty-four eggs, and the twenty-fourth was so big, so remarkably big!
Twenty-three eggs he brought to Mrs. Bob,but the twenty-fourth he sinfully left in charge of the discreet hen.
On his return he met Julius Caesar Fish, with his hands in his pockets and his head extinguished by his grandfather’s fur cap.
Together they went toward the hen-coop and Julius Caesar Fish spoke, or rather lisped (he had lost some of his front teeth):
“Jericho Bobth, tha’th a turkey’th egg.â€
“Yer don’t say so?â€
“I think i’th a-goin’ ter hatch.†No sooner said than they heard a pick and a peck in the shell.
“Pick!†a tiny beak broke through the shell. “Peck!†more beak. “Crack!†a funny little head, a long, bare neck, and then “Pick! Peck! Crack!†before them stood the funniest, fluffiest brown ball resting on two weak little legs.
“Hooray!†shouted the woolly heads.
“Peep!†said turkeykin.
“It’s mine!†Jericho shouted excitedly.
“Ith Marm Pitkin’th turkey’th; she laid it there.â€
“It’s mine, and I’m going to keep it, and next Thanksgiving I’m going ter eat him.â€
“Think yer ma’ll let you feed him up forthath?†Julius Caesar asked, grinning triumphantly.
Jericho Bob’s next Thanksgiving dinner seemed destined to be a dream. His face fell.
“I’ll tell yer whath I’ll do,†his friend said, benevolently; “I’ll keep ’m for you, and Thanksgivin’ we’ll go halvth.â€
Jericho resigned himself to the inevitable, and the infant turkey was borne home by his friend.
Fish, Jr., lived next door, and the only difference in the premises was a freight-car permanently switched off before the broken-down fence of the Fish yard; and in this car turkeykin took up his abode.
I will not tell you how he grew and more than realized the hopes of his foster-fathers, nor with what impatience and anticipation they saw spring, summer, and autumn pass, while they watched their Thanksgiving dinner stalk proudly up the bare yard, and even hop across the railroad tracks.
But, alas! the possession of the turkey brought with it strife and discord.
Quarrels arose between the friends as to the prospective disposal of his remains. Wegrieve to say that the question of who was to cook him led to blows.
It was the day before Thanksgiving. There was a coldness between the friends which was not dispelled by the bringing of a pint of cranberries to the common store by Jericho, and the contributing thereto of a couple of cold boiled sweet potatoes by Julius Caesar Fish.
The friends sat on an ancient wash-tub in the back yard, and there was a momentary truce between them. Before them stood the freight-car, and along the track beyond an occasional train tore down the road, which so far excited their mutual sympathy that they rose and shouted as one man.
At the open door of the freight-car stood the unsuspecting turkey, and looked meditatively out on the landscape and at the two figures on the wash-tub.
One had bow-legs, a turn-up nose, and a huge straw hat. The other wore a fur cap and a gentleman’s swallow-tail coat, with the tails caught up because they were too long.
The turkey hopped out of the car and gazed confidingly at his protectors. In point of size he was altogether their superior.
“I think,†said Jericho Bob, “we’d better ketch ’im; tomorrow’s Thanksgiving. Yum!â€
And he looked with great joy at the innocent, the unsuspecting fowl.
“Butcher Tham’th goin’ to kill ’im for uth,†Julius Caesar hastened to say, “an’ I kin cook ’im.â€
“No, you ain’t. I’m going to cook ’im,†Jericho Bob cried, resentfully. “He’s mine.â€
“He ain’th; he’th mine.â€
“He was my egg,†and Jericho Bob danced defiance at his friend.
The turkey looked on with some surprise, and he became alarmed when he saw his foster-fathers clasped in an embrace more of anger than of love.
“I’ll eat ’im all alone!†Jericho Bob cried.
“No, yes sha’n’t!†the other shouted.
The turkey shrieked in terror, and fled in a circle about the yard.
“Now, look yere,†said Julius Caesar, who had conquered. “We’re goin’ to be squar’. He wath your egg, but who brought ’im up? Me! Who’th got a friend to kill’im? Me! Who’th got a fire to cook ’im? Me! Now you git up and we’ll kitch ’im. Ef you thay another word about your egg I’ll jeth eat ’im up all mythelf.â€
Jericho Bob was conquered. With mutual understanding they approached the turkey.
“Come yere; come yere,†Julius Caesar said, coaxingly.
For a moment the bird gazed at both, uncertain what to do.
“Come yere,†Julius Caesar repeated, and made a dive for him. The turkey spread his tail. Oh, didn’t he run!
“Now, I’ve got her!†the wicked Jericho Bob cried, and thought he had captured the fowl; when, with a shriek from Jericho Bob, as the turkey knocked him over, the Thanksgiving dinner spread his wings, rose in the air, and alighted on the roof of the freight-car.
The turkey looked down over the edge of the car at his enemies, and they gazed up at him. Both parties surveyed the situation.
“We’ve got him,†Julius Caesar cried at last, exultantly. “You git on the roof, and ef you don’t kitch ’im up thar, I’ll kitch ’im down yere.â€
With the help of the wash-tub, an old chair, Julius Caesar’s back, and much scrambling, Jericho Bob was boosted on top of the car. The turkey was stalking solemnly up and down the roof with tail and wings half spread.
“I’ve got yer now,†Jericho Bob said, creeping softly after him. “I’ve got yer now, sure,†he was just repeating, when, with a deafening roar the express-train for New York came tearing down the road.
For what possible reason it slowed up on approaching the freight-car nobody ever knew; but the fact remains that it did, just as Jericho Bob laid his wicked black, paw on the turkey’s tail.
The turkey shrieked, spread his wings, shook the small black boy’s grasp from his tail, and with a mighty swoop alighted on the roof of the very last car as it passed; and in a moment more Jericho Bob’s Thanksgiving dinner had vanished, like a beautiful dream, down the road!
Jerusalem Artie sat on the door-step ofhis mammy’s cabin, buried in thought. It was a very unusual condition for Jerusalem Artie, but then, the occasion was an unusual one. The next day would be Christmas.
Presently he looked up. “Mammy,†he questioned, “what’s we-all a-gwine hab fo’ Chris-mus dinnah?â€
“Lan’ sakes, chile,†his mammy answered, “how-all’s I a-gwine know dat? Yo’ pappy ain’t got nuthin’ yit, an’ I ain’t a-reckonin’ he will git nuthin’.â€
Jerusalem Artie looked down, and was once more lost in thought.
He made a comical little figure there on the door-step, but to this fact both he and his mammy were blissfully oblivious. On his head he wore an old straw hat which his pappy had discarded for a fur cap at the approach of winter weather. In the spring the exchange would be made again, and Jerusalem Artie would wear the fur. But this did not trouble the boy. When it grew too hot, he left off any sort of head covering; and when it grew too cold, he wrapped one of mammy’s gay bandanas about his woolly head, and set the battered straw on top of that.
His shirt, and his one-sided suspenders, and even the trousers that he wore, had also belonged to his pappy. As Jerusalem Artie was only eight years old, the trousers were a trifle long. He had once suggested cutting them off, but his mammy had objected.
“Co’se yo’ cain’t, chile! Yo’ pappy might hab to weah dem pants some mo’ hisself yit, an’ how-all’d he look den?â€
The question was unanswerable.
“An’ what-all’dIweah den?†he had queried, dismayed at the possibility.
“How-all yo’ s’pose I’s a-gwine know dat?†his mammy had responded. “Maybe yo’ skin.â€
So Jerusalem Artie had rolled, and rolled, and rolled the bottom of the trouser legs till his little black toes emerged from the openings.
But now, as he sat on the door-step, his mind was not upon his clothes, not even upon the offending trousers. It was upon the Christmas dinner for which he was longing, but which did not exist.
“All neighbo’ folks a-gwine hab Chris’mus dinnahs,†he was saying to himself. “Boys done tol’ me so. An’ we’s gwine hab Chris’musdinnah, too,†he added, straightening up suddenly.
He got up from the door-step and started slowly toward the bit of tangled underbrush that grew back of the cabin. He did not know, yet, where the Christmas dinner was coming from. He had gotten no further than the resolve that there should be one.
“Folks hab turkey, er goose,†he was saying to himself, “er chickun, er—rabbit pie,†he ended with a sudden whoop, and made a dash toward the tangled brush, for, at that very moment, a rabbit’s white flag of a tail had flashed before his eyes.
“Hi, yo’ Molly Cottontail, I git yo’ fo’ a pie!†yelled Jerusalem Artie, and the chase was on.
Into the brush dashed Molly, and after her came Jerusalem Artie; and, as he ran, one leg of his trousers began to unroll. But there was no time to stop.
Molly Cottontail had the advantage, but Jerusalem Artie’s eyes were sharp, and Molly’s white flag led him on. Molly slid beneath the tangled brush, and Jerusalem Artie made desperate leaps above it, each leap marked by a flying trouser leg.
Suddenly Molly doubled on her tracks, for her pursuer was close at hand. Jerusalem Artie attempted to do the same, but his free foot became entangled with the elongated leg, and down went Jerusalem Artie—squarely on top of Molly Cottontail.
It pretty well knocked the breath out of both of them, but Jerusalem Artie recovered first, naturally, for he was on top.
“Chris’mus pie! Chris’mus pie!†he squealed, as he wriggled one hand cautiously beneath him and got a good firm hold of Molly’s long ears. Then carefully he got upon his feet.
The rabbit hung limp from his hand.
“Knocked yo’ breaf’ clean out fo’ suah!†he exclaimed, deliberately surveying his prize.
Then slowly he made his way to the road, for the chase had taken him some distance from the cabin, and the dragging trouser leg made walking difficult.
Reaching the roadside, he held aloft the still limp rabbit surveying it with a grin of satisfaction.
“Reckon she’s done fo’ as suah as I’s a niggah chile,†he soliloquized; and laying his Christmas dinner on the grass beside him, heproceeded to roll up the entangling trouser leg.
While he was in the midst of this occupation, there was a startling “honk, honk,†close at hand and a big red motor car flashed into sight.
The sudden noise startled Jerusalem Artie. It also startled Molly Cottontail. Her limp, and apparently lifeless, body gathered itself, leaped, and cleared the roadway, barely escaping the wheels of the big red motor car as it flashed by.
Jerusalem Artie rose to his feet, the trouser leg half rolled, and shrieked: “M’ Chris’mus dinnah! M’ Chris’mus dinnah!†for Molly Cottontail had disappeared.
As he stood looking helplessly after the offending cause of his loss, a man in the back seat turned, laughed, and, leaning over the side of the car, threw something bright and shining back into the road.
Jerusalem Artie pounced upon the spot, dug with his disentangled toes in the dust, and brought to view a silver half-dollar.
“Chris’mus dinnah yit,†he exclaimed, “as suah as I’se a niggah chile!â€
Then, with the half-dollar held hard betweenhis teeth, he finished rolling up the leg of his trousers.
“Mammy,†he cried, a moment later, as, dusty and breathless, he reappeared in the cabin doorway, “see what-all I foun’ in de road.â€
And Mammy’s look of dark suspicion faded as Jerusalem Artie recounted his brief and tragic adventure with Molly Cottontail.
“Yo-all’s a honey chile,†said Mammy, when he had concluded; “an we-all’s a-gwine right now an’ git a plumb fat chickun.â€
The next day, as Mammy cleared away the remains of the Christmas dinner, she said: “Now, chile, yo’ c’n tote dese yere chickun bones out on de do’-step an’ gnaw ’em clean. An’, Jerus’lem Artie, yo’ pappy say yo’ c’n cut off de laigs o’ dem pants, an’ hab ’em fo’ yo’self.â€
When I was a little girl I used to look for Robin Redbreast perched in the holly on my Christmas cards, and nearly always he was there, fluttering about in the green, or singinga merry greeting from among the red berries. Nowadays I do not see him so often, but I have heard the story of how he came to be there. Listen, and you shall hear it, too.
First, you must know that the English Robin Redbreast (which is the one in my story) does not go South in the fall as our robin does. That is why the little English children sing:
The North wind doth blow,And we shall have snow,And what will the robin do then, poor thing?He’ll stay in the barn,And keep himself warm,And tuck his head under his wing, poor thing.
The North wind doth blow,And we shall have snow,And what will the robin do then, poor thing?He’ll stay in the barn,And keep himself warm,And tuck his head under his wing, poor thing.
The North wind doth blow,And we shall have snow,And what will the robin do then, poor thing?He’ll stay in the barn,And keep himself warm,And tuck his head under his wing, poor thing.
The North wind doth blow,
And we shall have snow,
And what will the robin do then, poor thing?
He’ll stay in the barn,
And keep himself warm,
And tuck his head under his wing, poor thing.
Generally Robin gets through the winter very well, but sometimes he has a pretty hard time, and that is why this story came to be told.
One year, about Christmas time, there came a long spell of cold, stormy weather. It would snow, and all the children would shout for joy; then it would rain, and they would almost cry from disappointment; then again it would freeze, and they would run and slide and skate on the ice, only to be driven in by more snow and wind. SoChristmas eve found them all snug in their houses, making the rooms gay with holly and evergreen, and talking about Santa Claus and their Christmas stockings.
But outdoors in the cold a poor little Robin Redbreast was far from being snug and comfortable. It seemed to him that he hadn’t had anything to eat for a month. Every grain of corn in the barnyard was under the snow, no one threw out any crumbs, and the seed pods and berries that were food in the coldest weather were so thickly coated with ice that it was like pecking glass beads to try to eat one. The North wind seemed to be everywhere. It drove him out of each corner in which he tried to nestle, and Farmer Gray’s barn door was closed while he was busy in the hedge trying to get a mouthful of seeds. When it came night, poor Robin felt so chilled and hungry and miserable that he simply couldn’t “tuck his head under his wing,†much less “keep himself warm.â€
Once, when the lamps were lighted, he fluttered up to a window and tried to get behind the blind, but he could not squeeze in. Then he pecked at the glass, for he was a friendly birdie, and had more than oncebeen fed from a window, but no one heard his little tap, tap, and away he flew, trying once more to find shelter from the driving storm.
Now, there was a church near by. People had been going in and out all day, making it beautiful with Christmas greens, and preparing the children’s Christmas tree. Robin finally perched himself in the ivy at one window, though the North wind threatened to blow him off any moment. There were lights within, and he could hear the happy children gathered round the Christmas tree. After awhile every one went away, and the lights were turned out.
A half hour later the faithful sexton came back through the storm to take one more look at his fires, and make sure that all was safe for the night. Robin, just settling himself for a long, cold night, could see his lantern swinging as he pushed his way through the snowdrifts. When he opened the great church door, the wind and snow blew in—and something else, too—a cold, hungry little robin. But the sexton never knew. He banked his fires a little more and went home, leaving Robin alone.
Oh, how warm and quiet and comfortable it was! Robin tucked his head under his wing and was soon asleep on an oaken rafter. When he awoke in the morning, his first thought was that he was in the forest. How big and green and beautiful! Evergreen and holly were everywhere. Great festoons were looped from chancel to window. A great mass of holly hid the choir rail. Little Christmas trees were banked against the walls. Wreaths hung from the arches, and the red and golden lights from the windows bathed all in sunshine. Robin could hardly believe his eyes.
“Chirp! Chirp!†he cried, and flew from rafter to rafter, and from there to the organ loft. What a wonderful place to awaken in! Why had he never found it before? And what were those little red berries? Were they really good to eat?
“Chirp! Chirp! I think I’ll try one!†said he.
He hadn’t had a good meal for two days and a half, and if the ladies could have seen him eating their lovely decorations, I am afraid they would have been shocked. How good the holly berries tasted! And therewas such an abundance! No hunting and picking good from bad; no fuss of any kind. Hungry Robin flew from festoon to wreath and enjoyed the best breakfast he had known that winter. In fact, he ate till he was tired, and then he had another little nap on the rafter.
While he was sleeping the church bell rang, and the children began to flock in again. They had come to sing their carols at early morning service, and soon the church was filled with happy faces. Then the organ played and they began to sing. Robin woke up and watched everything quietly from his perch. He felt warm and happy, and he liked the music; in fact, he began to feel like singing, too. In the middle of the second verse he broke in. High and clear and sweet he sang, and the children looked up amazed. Suddenly the minister held up his hand. Wonderingly the organist and the children ceased. Robin was singing a solo, now. Perched high on the rafter, he threw his little head back and sang and sang, while the delighted children listened. When had they ever heard Robin Redbreast sing in church? How did he get in? What a wonderful song!
When Robin was through he flew to the top of the organ and looked down on them with bright eyes, as if to say: “That is all I can do to thank you for my breakfast and shelter!â€
“Children,†said the minister, “this little bird must have flown in here last night from the storm. He sings because he is grateful to the Heavenly Father who cares for all, and knows when even a sparrow falleth. Let us lift our hearts and voices, and thank him in our carols for this happy Christmas. Let our voices be as sweet as Robin Redbreast’s—our little brother who is welcome to all the comfort our church can give him!â€
The children sang their carols as they never sang them before, and they never forgot the Christmas day when they found Robin in church. That was years ago, but that is why, for a long time, Robin Redbreast was on the Christmas cards. Did you ever see him there?
It was Christmas eve. The soft snow fell in big flakes like white blossoms from thetrees of June. It covered the house roofs and glorified the trees. It hung jewels above the windows of the poor, and softened the lowliest hut to the white beauty of a palace.
And through the beautiful white pathway of the snow a herald rode, and cried that to-night the dear Christ Child would walk through the streets, and even as the falling snow made all barren and ugly things lovely, so would the Christ Child’s coming glorify the souls of them that met him aright, and they would be forever blest who should gain speech with him.
No wonder that a million candles lighted the streets. No wonder that great and proud, rich and poor, the sick, the old, and the lame thronged the white beauty of the streets and wandered up and down, wondering and waiting.
The King came forth in royal robes with a throng of courtiers at his back. He bore himself proudly, and proudly he waited.
The priest was there, bearing the blessed cross, and lifting prayerful eyes to the white sky.
The great singer came, singing his loveliest songs in tones so sweet that all who heardhim wondered, and said, “Surely he will have speech with the Christ Child.â€
The poet came with his book, and soldiers with gleaming swords, boasting of battles they had won, and all looked with eager eyes up and down the streets, each longing to be the first to see the Christ Child in all his beauty.
So, in their eagerness they pressed now this way and now that, heeding nothing but their one desire. The shivering beggar was jostled, the lame man was trampled under foot, and lay moaning in a doorway, and children were thrust aside from their eager gazing, and fell, weeping and disappointed, or fled from the stern presence of some blustering soldier, to hide in alleyways, praying that the little Christ Child would find them there, waiting to worship him.
Among the children was one braver than the others—little Karl. He had gone out with a glad heart, saying to his mother, “I will not come back, though I walk the streets all night, until I will see the Christ Child and gain a blessing for you and for me.†But his mother kissed him fondly, saying, “Go my son, but do not grieve if you do notsee the Christ Child, for there is blessing even in seeking him.â€
So little Karl, seeing so many crushed and crowded back, though fearing that the Christ Child should pass while he spent the time, lifted the lame man to a place of safety, apart from the crowd, followed the shivering beggar and lent him his cloak, and comforted the weeping children.
And meanwhile the crowd pushed and jostled and threatened, and no one gave heed to a ragged boy who pressed slowly through the throng, going from street to street, and saying now and again, “I hunger. Will one give me a crust of bread?â€
No one gave heed, save that the King drew back his royal robes and bade his courtiers clear his pathway of beggars; the great singer asked angrily who was this who dared to interrupt him in his singing, and turned his back upon the child to begin his song anew; the poet saw him not, because his eyes were not lifted from the book, while some, impatient at the interrupted melody, or taking counsel from the king’s frown, jostled him in rude malice.
True, the priest turned on him a kindlyglance and would have spoken, but that a sudden movement in the crowd gave hope of the Christ Child’s coming, and he forgot all else to press after the others.
But little Karl, now shivering with cold, had pity, and crept to the stranger boy’s side, and broke his one piece of bread with him and offered him a place in his sheltered doorway.
“It is cold,†Karl said, “and I have lent my cloak, or we could share it with each other, and the bread is old, but it is all I have, and indeed one feels hunger and cold but lightly who watches for the Christ Child and hopes for his blessing.â€
When, lo! as the ragged boy broke the bread and ate with Karl, his face became glorified, and a light like soft moonlight played about his fair temples, and the eyes that looked into the very soul of Karl, as he rose in glad amaze, were clear and wonderful as the winter stars, and yet gentle as the eyes of a pet lamb.
And suddenly, as he gazed, Karl fell, worshiping, for he knew that he had had speech with the Christ Child.
Then, while the crowd still surged andquarreled and waited, watching, the Christ Child walked through the soft falling snows, where little Karl led the way. And they sought out the beggar, and the lame man, and the little children, and the great who were also good, and all whose smiles were kindly and whose hearts were like those of little children.
Now God saw that the wickedness of man was great in the earth, and it repented God that he had made man. But Noah was a just man and perfect in his generation, and Noah walked with God.
And God said unto Noah, The end of all flesh is come before me; for the earth is filled with violence through them, and, behold, I will destroy them with the earth.
Make thee an ark of gopher wood; rooms shalt thou make in the ark, and shalt pitch it within and without with pitch. A window shalt thou make to the ark; and the door of the ark shalt thou set in the side thereof; with lower, second, and third stories shalt thou make it.
And behold, I, even I, do bring a flood of waters upon the earth, to destroy all flesh; and everything that is in the earth shall die. But with thee will I establish my covenant; and thou shalt come into the ark, thou, and thy sons, and thy wife, and thy sons’ wives with thee.
And of every living thing, two of every sort shalt thou bring into the ark, to keep them alive with thee; they shall be male and female. Of fowls after their kind, and of cattle, and of every creeping thing of the earth, two of every sort shall come unto thee, to keep them alive.
And take thou unto thee of all food that is eaten; and it shall be for food for thee, and for them.
Thus did Noah, according to all that God commanded him, so did he.
And the Lord said unto Noah, Come thou and all thy house into the ark; for thee have I seen righteous before me in this generation.
And Noah went in, and his sons, and his wife, and his sons’ wives with him, into theark, because of the waters of the flood. Of clean beasts, and of beasts that are not clean, and of fowls, and of everything that creepeth upon the earth, there went in two and two unto Noah into the ark, the male and the female, as God had commanded Noah. And the Lord shut him in.
And it came to pass after seven days, that the waters of the flood were upon the earth. In the six hundredth year of Noah’s life, in the second month, the seventeenth day of the month, the same day were all the fountains of the great deep broken up, and the windows of heaven were opened.
And the rain was upon the earth forty days and forty nights. And the waters increased, and bare up the ark, and it was lift up above the earth, and all flesh died that moved upon the earth. And every living substance was destroyed which was upon the face of the ground, both man, and cattle, and the creeping things, and the fowl of the heaven; and Noah only remained alive, and they that were with him in the ark, and the ark went upon the face of the waters.
And the waters prevailed upon the earth an hundred and fifty days.
And God remembered Noah, and every living thing, and the cattle that was with him in the ark: and God made a wind to pass over the earth, and the waters asswaged. The fountains also of the deep and the windows of heaven were stopped, and the rain from heaven was restrained; and the waters returned from off the earth continually, and after the end of the hundred and fifty days the waters were abated.
And the ark rested in the seventh month, on the seventeenth day of the month, upon the mountains of Ararat. And the waters decreased continually until the tops of the mountains were seen.
And it came to pass at the end of forty days, that Noah opened the window of the ark which he had made: and he sent forth a raven, which went forth to and fro, until the waters were dried up from the earth.
Also he sent forth a dove from him, to see if the waters were abated from off the face of the ground; but the dove found no rest for the sole of her foot, and she returned unto him into the ark, for the waterswere on the face of the whole earth; then he put forth his hand, and took her, and pulled her in unto him into the ark.
And he stayed yet other seven days; and again he sent forth the dove out of the ark; and the dove came in to him in the evening; and, lo, in her mouth was an olive leaf pluckt off: so Noah knew that the waters were abated from off the earth.
And he stayed yet other seven days; and he sent forth the dove; which returned not again unto him any more. And Noah removed the covering of the ark, and looked, and, behold, the face of the ground was dry.
And God spake unto Noah, saying, Go forth of the ark, thou, and thy sons, and thy wife, and thy sons’ wives with thee. Bring forth with thee every living thing of all flesh, both of fowl, and of cattle, and of every creeping thing that creepeth upon the earth, that they may be fruitful and multiply upon the earth.
And Noah went forth, and his sons, and his wife, and his sons’ wives with him: every beast, every creeping thing, and every fowl, went forth out of the ark.
And Noah builded an altar unto the Lord.
And the Lord said in his heart, I will not again curse the ground any more for man’s sake; for the imagination of man’s heart is evil from his youth; neither will I again smite any more every thing living, as I have done.
While the earth remaineth, seed time and harvest, and cold and heat, and summer and winter, and day and night shall not cease.
And God blessed Noah and his sons. And God spake unto Noah, and to his sons with him, saying, And I, behold, I establish my covenant with you, and with your seed after you; and with every living creature that is with you, of the fowl, of the cattle, and of every beast of the earth with you; from all that go out of the ark, to every beast of the earth. I will establish my covenant with you; neither shall all flesh be cut off any more by the waters of a flood; neither shall there any more be a flood to destroy the earth.
And God said, This is the token of the covenant which I make between me and you and every living creature that is with you, for perpetual generations: I do set my bowin the cloud, and it shall be for a token of covenant between me and the earth.
And it shall come to pass, when I bring a cloud over the earth, that the bow shall be seen in the cloud: and I will remember my covenant, which is between me and you and every living creature of all flesh; and the waters shall no more become a flood to destroy all flesh.
And Noah lived after the flood three hundred and fifty years. And all the days of Noah were nine hundred and fifty years.
More than two thousand years ago, there was a great battle in the land of Palestine. At that time, Saul was king of Israel, and the battle was fought between the Israelites and the Philistines, their enemies. Now, the Israelites worshiped God or Jehovah, while the Philistines worshiped images of wood and stone.
And the Philistines stood on the mountain on the one side, and Israel stood on the mountain on the other side; and the ravine was between them.
And as the armies were drawn up for battle, there stepped out from the ranks of the Philistines a champion named Goliath. He was a giant in stature, and he was clothed in a corselet of scales, with a helmet of bronze upon his head. His spear was like a weaver’s beam—and a shield-bearer went before him.
And Goliath stood and cried to the people of Israel, “I have come forth to defy the army of Israel. Choose ye a man who shall come and fight with me. If he slays me, then will the Philistines be your servants, but if I slay him, then shall ye be the servants of the Philistines.â€
Then were the Israelites dismayed, and no man dared go forth to fight with Goliath.
Every night and every morning for forty days, Goliath came forth and challenged the army of Israel, and no man dared go forth to fight him.
At this same time, away off among the hills of Bethlehem, there was a young man named David, who was tending his father’s sheep. He was a shepherd lad, but ruddy, and of a beautiful appearance. His father’s name was Jesse. Now, Jesse’s three oldersons were in the army of Saul, but David, the youngest, cared for the sheep. He loved the country about Bethlehem, and he had many beautiful thoughts while watching over the sheep that he loved.
But one day his father called him away from the sheep pastures, and sent him to see his brothers, and to bring back a message from them, for he was anxious about their welfare. And he gave him parched corn and ten loaves as a gift for them.
So David journeyed to where his brothers were, and when he reached them, the armies were drawn up, the Philistines on one mountain, and the Israelites on the other, with the ravine between. And as David reached the place, he saw Goliath, coming forth to challenge the army of Israel, as he had done for forty days.
And when David heard Goliath’s words, and saw that all the army of Israel was dismayed, he was filled with indignation, and he asked, “Who is this Philistine, that he should defy the armies of the living God?â€
And David’s words were repeated to Saul, and Saul sent for David, and David told Saul that he would go forth and fight with Goliath.
Then said Saul, “But thou art but a youth, and this is a man of war.â€
Then David answered, “I have slain with my hands both a lion and a bear, when they came to destroy a lamb of my flock. And I can also slay this Philistine, for Jehovah, who delivered me out of the paw of the lion and of the bear, will deliver me out of the hand of this Philistine.â€
And Saul said to David, “Go, and Jehovah be with thee.†And he would have put his armor upon David, but David refused it, and taking his staff in his hand, he chose five smooth stones out of the brook and put them in the pocket of the shepherd’s bag which he wore. Then with his sling in his hand, he advanced to meet Goliath.
But when Goliath saw David, he exclaimed, “Am I a dog, that thou comest to me with a staff? Come on, then, and I will give thy flesh to the fowls of the heavens and to the beasts of the field.â€
And David answered, “Thou comest to me with a sword and with a spear, but I come to thee in the name of Jehovah of hosts, the God of the armies of Israel, whom thou hast defied. This day will Jehovah deliver thee intomy hand, and all the earth shall know that Israel has a God.â€
And David put his hand into his bag and drew forth a stone and put it into his sling and he slung it; and it struck the Philistine in the forehead, and he fell on his face to the earth.
And the army of Israel arose and shouted, and the Philistines became the servants of Israel, and great honors were heaped upon David.
Some years after this, at the death of Saul, David became king of Israel, but he never forgot his days upon the hills of Bethlehem, when he tended his father’s sheep; and he was called the “Shepherd King.â€
After he had become king, David wrote many beautiful songs or psalms, and one of the most beautiful of them all is the twenty-third psalm, which shows that even when all the glory and honor of being a king were his, he loved to think of himself as one of the sheep over whom the Lord watched as a shepherd.
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.