AN OLD-WORLD GHOSTChildren are often inclined to think that the nations who ruled the world long, long ago, were quite unlike ourselves, and always busy with very serious things, such as the passing of laws or fighting. It is quite a surprise sometimes to learn that they really shared our feelings on a whole quantity of subjects, and even, as this story will show, were quite as much afraid of ghosts or haunted houses as anybody in these days could be. It is told by a famous Roman citizen called Pliny, who was born near Lake Como in the reign of the Emperor Nero.There was, he says, at that time a large and comfortable house in a good part of the town of Athens which, to the astonishment of everybody, stood empty for many years. It seemed odd that so fine a building should remain so long unoccupied, and at length one man more curious than the rest asked his host when at a small dinner party if he could explain the reason. The tale he heard from the Athenian noble was a marvellous one, and the guest shuddered as he listened, for though he was bold enough in the field of battle, he trembled in the presence of that which he did not understand.Once the house had been filled with a gay family; music had floated through the garden, children had played at knuckle bones in the hall, and young men had thrown discs in the courts. But gradually sounds of laughter grew more rare and the dwellers in the house fell ill of mysterious maladies, till at last the few that were left departed for another place, hoping amidst new surroundings to shake off the gloom which possessed them. For a while none dared ask why the home of their fathers had been thus forsaken; but little by littlewhispers of the truth got abroad, and it was noticed that men turned down another street sooner than pass the empty mansion.A little girl was the first to hear the noise and sat up straight in her bed with wide-open eyes peering into the darkness, too frightened even to call to her slave, as a sound like the clanking of chains struck upon her ear. It seemed to come from very far off; but soon, to the child's wild terror, it drew closer and closer, till she expected every moment to feel the touch of the cold iron on her cheek. Then, to her immense relief, it became fainter, and went farther and farther away, by and bye dying out altogether.Such was the tale the little girl told to her mother in the morning, and very shortly there was not a person in the house who had not been roused by the mysterious noise. For a time this was all that happened, and though it was bad enough, perhaps it might have been borne; but there was worse to come. One night the form of an old man appeared, so thin you could almost see his bones, his hair standing up like bristles, and a white beard flowing to his waist. On his wrists and ankles were iron chains, which shook as he moved. Henceforward there was no sleep for any of the household; their days were passed in dread of the nights, and one by one they fell a prey to their terrors. At length there came a time when the living skeletons could endure it no longer and fled, leaving the ghost behind them. Such was the tale told to the guest, but the end was yet to come.Years passed by, and the survivors began gradually to recover their health and spirits, and wondered if things had really been so bad as they had thought, and if some stranger, ignorant of the story, might not be persuaded to take the house if the rent was made low enough. So a notice was put up in a public place, offering the mansion for sale or hire, and one of the first to read it happened to be Athenodorus the philosopher, who had arrived on a visit to Athens. He knew nothing of the evil reputation which belonged to the house, but the low price asked aroused his suspicions, and he at once inquired why so fine a dwelling should be offered for so little. With somedifficulty he managed to piece together the true story, and when he heard it, instantly took the house, resolved to find out if possible the secret of the ghost.ATHENODORUS CONFRONTS THE SPECTRE.ATHENODORUS CONFRONTS THE SPECTRE.As it grew dark, he bade his slave carry a couch for him to the front part of the mansion, and place a lamp and writing materials on a table near it. He afterwards dismissed the slaves to their own quarters, and turned his whole attention to the book he happened to be writing, so that he might not from idleness fancy he saw or heard all sorts of things which were not there. For a little while he worked amidst dead silence; then a faint sound as of the clanking of chains smote on his ears, always coming nearer and nearer, and growing louder and louder. But Athenodorus, as became a philosopher, was master of himself, even at this moment. He gave no sign of having heard anything out of the common, and his sharp-pointed instrument never faltered for an instant in drawing the words on the waxen tablet. In a few seconds the noise reached the door; next, it was within the door and coming down the room. At last Athenodorusdidlift his head and beheld the figure he had been told of standing close to him, and signalling with his finger. In reply the philosopher waved his hand, begging the ghost to wait until he had finished the sentence he was writing, and this he succeeded in doing in spite of the fact that the figure incessantly rattled the chains close to his ears. Athenodorus, however, would not hurry himself, and wrote on deliberately. Then he laid down his stylus and looked round. The ghost was again beckoning to him, so he took up the lamp and motioned the figure to go before him. With a slow step, as of one who carries a heavy weight on his feet, the old man walked through the house as far as the courtyard, where he vanished quite suddenly; nor could the philosopher discover the smallest trace of him, though he searched every corner carefully by the aid of his lamp. As it was now night and too late to examine further, Athenodorus made a little heap of leaves and grass to mark the spot where the figure disappeared, and returned to his couch where he slept peacefully till dawn.When he awoke next morning he at once visited a magistrateof the city and, after telling his story, begged that some men might be sent to dig up that part of the courtyard. The magistrate gave the order without delay, and, accompanied by Athenodorus, the slaves set about their task. A few feet from the surface the pickaxes struck upon iron and the philosopher drew nearer, for he felt that the secret of the haunting was about to be disclosed. And so it was, for there lay a heap of bones with chains fastened to them.How they came there, how long they had been there, whose bones they were, none could tell; but they were collected in a box and buried by order of the magistrate, at the expense of the public. This seemed to satisfy the unquiet spirit, for the house was henceforward left in peace, and as Athenodorus had no further interest in the matter its owners were free to return and dwell there, which they gladly did.[FromPliny's Letters.]THE GENTLEMAN HIGHWAYMANFew people can have crowded more occupations into a life of twenty-six years than James Maclean.His father, a Scot by birth, had settled in the Irish county of Monaghan, where the position of minister to a body of dissenters had been offered him. From the first moment of his coming amongst them Mr. Maclean was much liked by his congregation, who carried all their troubles to him, sure that if he could not help them, he would at least give them advice and sympathy, and there was not one of them who did not drink his health with his whole heart when the minister married the daughter of a gentleman in the neighbourhood.More than twenty years passed away quietly and happily. The Macleans had two sons, and the elder one early showed a wish to follow his father's profession, and, at an age when most young men are still at the University, received a 'call' to a Protestant congregation at the Hague.James, the younger, was educated for a merchant, and as soon as he was eighteen was to go into a counting-house and learn his business. Unfortunately, just before he reached the date fixed, his father died, leaving the youth his own master—for as no mention is made of his mother, it is probable she was dead also. Without consulting anyone, James threw up the post which old Maclean had taken so much pains to get for him, and withdrawing the money left him by the will, from the bank, spent it all in a few months on racing and betting.Of course he was not allowed to make himself a beggar in this silly way without an effort to save him on the part of his mother's friends. But from a child he had always thoughthe knew better than anyone else, and quarrelled with those who took a different view. Naturally, when the money had all disappeared without anything to show for it, he chose to forget how rude he had been, and expected his relations to support him in idleness, which they absolutely refused to do. At length, not knowing which way to turn, he was glad enough to become the valet of a certain Mr. Howard, who was on his way to England. When he liked, the young Irishman could make himself as pleasant as most of his countrymen, and Mr. Howard took a great fancy to him, and treated him with much kindness. But from first to last James never knew when he was well off, and after a while he returned to his old ways, and frequently stayed out all night, drinking and gambling. In vain did Mr. Howard warn him that unless he gave up these habits he would certainly be dismissed. The young man paid no heed to his words, and in the end his master's patience was exhausted, and one day James found himself on board the Irish boat, without a character and nothing but his quarter's wages in his pockets.Now James Maclean was one of those people who are totally without a sense of shame, and if once a person cannot be made ashamed of what he has done, and always imagines himself to be the victim of bad luck or of somebody else, his case is hopeless. On this occasion he was quite convinced that it was the duty of his relations to supply him with an income, or at least with a home, and when as before refusals met him on all sides, he applied not for the first or even the second time, to his brother at the Hague for help. We do not know what excuse he made for his request, but we may be quite certain it was not the true one; still whether his brother believed him or not, he sent him a small sum, probably at the cost of great self-denial, for the salaries of ministers were not high. This money, as was to be expected, went the way of the rest, and again James found himself penniless and reduced to look for a place as a servant.Hearing that a Colonel in the British army who had served abroad with some of his Scotch uncles was in need of a butler,young Maclean went to see him, and was lucky enough to obtain the situation, though he knew as little of a butler's work as he did of a printer's. He was, however, quick at picking up anything that he chose and contrived to keep this place for a year or two, till the Colonel discovered that his butler had been carrying out a system of robbery ever since he had been in his house. After a few words from his master, James was once more cast on the world, and had some idea of enlisting in the Irish brigade then serving under the French flag, and this would have been the best thing that could have happened to him. But as, on inquiry, he learned that unless he became a Roman Catholic he would be refused a commission, he changed his mind and resolved to remain where he was.'Well, I suppose there is nothing for it but a humble letter to the Colonel,' thought James one day, when he heard from a man whom he met at a tavern that his late master was on his way to England. So calling for paper and a pen, he composed a letter to such good purpose and so full of lies, that the kindhearted Colonel really believed he had repented, and offered to take him back, desiring at the same time that James should take his baggage by sea to London, and allowing him a shilling a day for his food.It was with mingled feelings of contempt and relief that the young reprobate read his master's reply. 'What a fool he is!' he said to himself, adding after a moment 'Well, after all, it is lucky for me!'But the Colonel, good-natured though he was, knew too much about master James to give credit to his stories, and declined a request, made soon after their arrival in London, to purchase a commission for his late butler, with a view to enabling him to marry an heiress. Yet when he discovered that Maclean had really enlisted in Lord Albemarle's regiment of horse-guards, he consented to give him the ten pounds necessary for the purpose, which, to keep it the more safely, was placed in the hands of one of the officers. Whether Maclean ever succeeded in handling the money seems doubtful, for as soon as his papers were made out and he was ordered to join thearmy in Flanders, he suddenly disappeared, and the troopship sailed without him.There must have been something very attractive about this rogue, for whatever desperate plight he was in he always contrived to fall on his feet; and when he thought it safe to emerge from the place where he was in hiding while there was a hue and cry raised after the deserter, it was in the character of a man anxious to start for the West Indies—if someone would only lend him fifty pounds!Someonedidlend it to him, and it was instantly spent on fine clothes which captured the heart of Miss Macglegno, the daughter of a horse-dealer, with five hundred pounds to her dowry.This time, Maclean did not dare to throw about the money as he had previously done, but with his father-in-law's eye upon him, he opened a grocer's shop in Welbeck Street, hoping that the fashionable people who had come to live in the big new houses in Cavendish Square might give him their custom. But his wife speedily saw that if the business was to prosper she must look after it herself, as her husband could be depended on for nothing. Therefore she set to work, and for three years all went well, and the neighbours said to each other that it was fortunate she was such a stirring woman, as though Master Maclean was a harmless sort of man he was apt to be lazy.At the end of this period Mrs. Maclean died, after a short illness, and her two little girls went to live with their grandmother. Left alone, James neglected the shop more and more, and at length it grew plain to himself, as well as to everybody else, that if any money was to be saved at all, the goods must be sold for what they would fetch. And once sold, it is easy to guess how quickly the gold melted in James's pocket.It was not till he had come to his last shilling—or at any rate his last pound—that Maclean began to ask himself 'What next?' After these years of comfort and plenty—and idleness—it would be hard to become a servant again, yet hecould not see any other means of keeping himself from starving.He was slowly getting accustomed to the idea of seeking for a servant's place, when one day he met in the streets an apothecary named Plunket, whom he had known in Monaghan.'How now?' asked Plunket. 'Is anything the matter? You look as if you were on the road to be hung at Tyburn.''The matter is that to-morrow I shall not have a penny in the world,' answered Maclean, gloomily.'Oh, things are never so bad as they seem,' said Plunket. 'Cheer up. Perhaps I can find a way to supply you withmorepennies. It only wants a little pluck and spirit! Ifwehaven't got any money, there are plenty of other people who have.'Maclean was silent. He understood at once what Plunket meant, and that he was being offered a partnership in a scheme of highway robbery. He had, as we know, stolen small sums before, but that felt to him a very different thing from stopping travellers along the road, and demanding 'their money or their life.' However, he soon shook off his scruples, and was ready to take his part in any scheme that Plunket should arrange.'You are in luck just now,' said his tempter, who all this time had been watching his face and read the thoughts that were passing through his mind. 'I heard only this morning of a farmer who has sold a dozen fat oxen at the Smithfield Market, and will be riding home this evening with the money in his saddle-bags. If he had any sense he would have started early and ridden in company, but I know my gentleman well, and dare swear he will not leave the tavern outside the market till dusk is falling. So if we lie in wait for him on Hounslow Heath, he cannot escape us.'It was autumn, and dark at seven o'clock, when the farmer, not as sober as he might have been, came jogging along. He was more than half-way across, and was already thinking how best to spend the sixty pounds his beasts had brought him, when out of a hollow by the roadside sprang two men with masks and pistols, which were pointed straight at his horse's head.'Your money or your life,' said one of them, while the other stood silent; and with trembling fingers the farmer unloaded his saddle-bags, and delivered up his watch. As soon as Plunket saw there was no more to be got out of him, he gave the horse a smart cut on his flanks, and the animal bounded away.All this while Maclean had not uttered a word, nor had he laid a finger on the victim. He had in reality trembled with fear quite as much as the farmer, and it was not till they were safe in Plunket's garret off Soho Square that he breathed freely.'Sixty pounds, do you say? Not bad for one night's work,' cried Plunket. 'Well, friend James, I will give you ten pounds for your share, which I call handsome, seeing you did not even cock your pistol! But perhaps it is all one could expect for the first time, only on the next occasion you must do better. And you might just as well, you know, as if the officers of the peace catch you they will hang you to a certainty, never stopping to ask questions as to your share in the matter.'Maclean nodded. He saw the truth of this, and besides, the excitement of the adventure began to stir his blood, and he was soon counting the days till he heard from Plunket again. On this occasion a travelling carriage was to be stopped on the St. Albans road, and it was settled that Maclean should present his pistol to the coachman's head, while Plunket secured the booty. But when it came to the point, James's face was so white, and the fingers which held the pistol so shaky, that Plunket saw they had better change parts, and indeed, as the gentleman inside offered no resistance whatever, and meekly yielded up everything of value he had about him, Maclean succeeded in doing all that was required of him by his partner.'Much goodyouare!' said Plunket, when they had plunged into the neighbouring wood. 'If I had not been there that coachman would have stunned you with the butt end of his whip. You are the lion who was born without claws or teeth! A cat would have been as useful.''Yes, I know,' answered Maclean hurriedly, feeling verymuch ashamed of himself. 'I can't think what was the matter with me—I suppose I'm not quite accustomed to it yet.' And that very evening, to prove to Plunket—and himself—that he was not such a coward as he seemed, he attacked a gentleman in Hyde Park and robbed him of a gold watch and chain and a small sum of money.After this Maclean shook off his timidity, and became known to his brother highwaymen as one of the most daring and successful 'gentlemen of the road,'—for so the people called them. Only on one occasion did he run any risk of being caught, and then he took refuge on board a vessel that was sailing for Holland, and sought out his brother at the Hague.'It is so long since we have seen each other, I could not but come,' he said to the minister, who, suspecting nothing, was delighted to welcome him, and insisted on hearing the story of James's life since they had last parted. For a whole evening the good man listened to a moving tale, not one word of which was true, except that which related to James's marriage and the starting of the grocer's shop. The minister praised and pitied, and told it all to his friends, rich and prosperous citizens who were proud to invite the fine gentleman from London to their parties. And if at the end of the evening some purses and watches were missing, well! they might have been robbed on their way hither, or have forgotten them at home. At any rate, nobody dreamed for one moment of suspecting their minister's guest.But in spite of all the precautions which, notwithstanding his recklessness, Maclean thought well to take—in spite of his silence respecting his own affairs, and his frequent changes of lodgings so that no one might connect him with one particular neighbourhood, he at last put the rope round his own neck by an act of gross carelessness.On the morning of June 26, 1750, James robbed Lord Eglinton in his travelling carriage, and a little later in the same day attacked the Salisbury coach, in company with Plunket.They escaped as usual, Maclean carrying with him a bag containing several suits of fine clothes, trimmed with beautiful lace, belonging to one of the passengers named Higden. Maclean's first care was to strip off the lace, and to send a message to a dealer that he had some clothes to sell, if the man would call to see them at his address. At the time, the dealer chanced to be busy and could not come, and by the following morning, when he made his way to Maclean's rooms, an advertisement was out describing the garments so exactly that the man instantly recognised them, and gave information to the magistrate.That night the 'gentleman highwayman' was arrested on a warrant, and carried to the prison of Newgate, and Plunket, who had been uneasy since the dealer's visit, and was on the watch, hurried to the coast in disguise and hid on board a smuggler's boat, bound for France. Maclean remained to take his trial, and after first confessing and then denying his confession, was convicted of robbery on the King's highway, and was hanged at the gallows erected at Tyburn, where the corner of Connaught Square and the Edgware Road now stand. He was at the period of his execution only twenty-six, yet he had contrived to do more mean and base deeds than most rogues of sixty.MACLEAN AND PLUNKET STOP LORD EGLINTON'S CARRIAGEMACLEAN AND PLUNKET STOP LORD EGLINTON'S CARRIAGETHE VISION OF THE POPEIt was the evening of October 7, 1571, when the Christian fleet, under the command of Don John of Austria, had defeated the Turks at the battle of Lepanto—one of the 'Fifteen Decisive Battles of the World.' Far away from the narrow Greek seas, where the victory had been gained, the Pope, Pius V, was in his palace of the Vatican in Rome, discussing business with his treasurer, Busotti of Bibiana. Pope Pius suffered from a painful complaint which made him very restless, and he always preferred to stand or walk about, rather than to sit. He was therefore pacing the room, putting questions or listening to statements as he did so, when suddenly he broke off in the middle of a sentence and stood still with his neck stretched out in the attitude of a person whose ears are strained to catch some sound, at the same time signing to Busotti to keep silent. After a moment's pause he approached the window and threw it open, always in the same listening attitude, while Busotti, half frightened, sat watching. Then in an instant a look of rapture passed over the face of Pius, and lifting his head he raised his clasped hands to Heaven as if in thanksgiving. At this sight Busotti understood that something strange was happening which he could not see, and he remained awed and still for three minutes, as he afterwards swore. When the three minutes were ended the Pope aroused himself from his ecstasy, and with a countenance shining with joy, spoke to Busotti:'This is not the hour for business. Let us give thanks to God for our great victory over the Turks,' and he retired into his oratory.Left at liberty the treasurer hastened to give an account ofthese strange events to various bishops and cardinals, who desired that it should instantly be taken down in writing, the time and place of the scene being carefully noted. They ordered further, that when sealed, the document should be deposited for safety in the house of a lawyer. This, it will be remembered, was on October 7, but the first news of the battle was not received in Rome till the 26th, when a messenger arrived from the Doge of Venice, Mocenigo, followed three or four days later by one from Don John himself. Then calculations were made of the difference of time between the longitude of Rome and that of the islands off the Greek coast where the battle was fought, with the result that it was proved that the vision of the Pope had occurred at the precise moment in which Don John had sprung, sword in hand, from his place in the centre of his galley to beat back the Turks who were swarming over the bulwarks.The repelling of the attack had turned the scale in the fortunes of the day, and the power of the Turks over Christendom was broken for ever.GROWING-UP-LIKE-ONE-WHO-HAS-A-GRANDMOTHERThat was the name of a little Indian boy living on the North-West coast of America, and a very odd name it is, as well as a very long one. To be sure, in his own language it could all be put into seventeen letters, while in English it takes thirty-four, as you will find if you count them, and thatdoesmake a difference.However, though we should have preferred a name that was shorter and prettier, there is something satisfactory about this one, for a little boy who has a grandmother is likely to be well fed and petted, and made to feel himself a person of importance, and that is pleasant to everybody. But it also means in general that he has lost his father and mother, which had happened to this particular little boy. They had died a long while before, and now there only remained his grandmother and his mother's brother, who was chief of the village.One evening the chief was sitting on the beach gazing up at the sky. And while he gazed, fire came right down like a shooting star, and struck the point of a branch which grew on a tree behind his house. As it touched the branch it became solid and hung there, shining like copper. When the chief saw this he arose and walked to the house and said to the people inside:'There is a great piece of copper hanging from that tree. Bid the young men go and knock it down and whichever hits it shall marry my daughter.'Quite a crowd of youths gathered at the back of the chief's house early next morning, and many of the old men camelikewise to watch the sport. All day the young Indians threw stones till their hands became sore and their arms ached, but never once did the lump of copper move. At last for very weariness they had to rest, and eat some food. After that they felt better and went on throwing stones till darkness fell, but still no one had hit the copper.As soon as the stars peeped out the poor little boy who had been looking on also ran down to the beach, as his uncle had done, and laid himself upon a rock. By and bye a man approached him and said:'What are the village people talking about? They make a great noise!''A lump of copper is hanging on the tree and they were trying to knock it down, but nobody succeeded,' answered the boy; and as he spoke, the man stooped and picked up four pebbles.'It is you who shall knock it down,' said he. 'First you must throw the white stone, then the black stone, then the blue stone, and last of all the red stone. But be careful not to show them to anybody.''I will be careful,' replied the boy.On the following morning all the people returned to the place behind the house, and the poor little boy went with them.'I am going to throw, too,' said he, and the young men tried to push him aside, asking scornfully how one so small could hope to succeed when they had failed. But the old men would not allow them to have their way, and said:'Let him throw, too; the chief has given leave to everybody, and he can but fail as you have done. He shall throw first.' So the poor little boy stepped forward, and taking out the white stone swung it round his head so that it whistled four times before he let it go. It flew very near the copper, nearer than any of the young men's stones had flown, and the black and the blue almost grazed it. The young men looking on grew uncomfortable and ceased mocking, and as the poor little boy drew out the red stone, they held their breath. Swiftly it shot through the air and struck the copper with a great clang, so that it fell down to the earth. The old men nodded their headswisely, but the young men quickly picked up the copper and carried it into the chief's house, each man crying out that it was he who had hit the copper and had gained the chief's daughter. But as they could notallhave hit it, the chief knew that they were a pack of liars and only bade them wait a while, and he would see. As for the poor little boy, he did not want to marry the girl or anyone else, so he did not mind what the young men said.Nothing more was heard that day of the winner of the prize, but at night a white bear came to the back of the house, and growled loudly.'Whoever kills that white bear shall marry my daughter,' said the chief, and not a youth slept all through the village, wondering how best to kill the white bear, and between them they made so many plans that it seemed as if the white bear could never escape. In the evening, the poor little boy went down to the beach again, and sat upon a rock looking out to sea, till at last he beheld a man approaching him, but it was not the same man whom he had seen before.'What are the people talking about in the village?' asked the man, just as the other had done, and the poor little boy answered:'Last night a white bear appeared behind the house. Whoever kills it shall marry the chief's daughter.'The man nodded his head and thought for a moment; then he said:'Ask the chief for a bow and arrow: you shall shoot it.' So the poor little boy got up and left the beach, and returned to the village.When it grew dark, all the young men met in the house of the chief, and the poor little boy stole in after them. The chief took from a shelf a tall quiver containing a quantity of bows and arrows, and he held them to the fire in order to make them supple. Then he gave a bow and two arrows to each man, but to the poor little boy, his own nephew, he gave nothing.'Give me a bow and arrows also,' said the poor little boy,when he saw that the chief did not notice him, and the young men broke out into scoffs and jeers as they had done before; and as before, the old men answered:'Give a bow and arrows to the poor little boy.' And the chief listened and gave them to him.All that night the young men sat up, listening, listening; but it was only before daybreak that they heard the white bear's growl. At the first sound they ran out, and the poor little boy ran out with them, and he ran more swiftly than they and shot his arrow. And the arrow passed right through the neck of the bear, so that when the poor little boy pulled it out it was covered with blood.By this time the young men had come up and found the bear dead, so they dipped their arrows in the blood, and picking up the bear, carried it into the house of the chief, the poor little boy coming behind them.'It was I who shot the bear; we are bringing him to you,' shouted one quicker to speak than the rest; but the chief was a wise man, and only answered:'Let every man give me his bow and arrows, that I may examine them, and see who has killed the white bear.'Now the young men did not like that saying, but they were forced to obey.'Give me your bow and arrows also,' he said to the poor little boy, and the poor little boy handed them to him, and the chief knew by the marks that it was he who shot the white bear. And the young men saw by his eyes that he knew it, but they all kept silence: the chief because he was ashamed that a boy had done these two things where grown men had failed; the young men, because they were ashamed that they had lied and had been found to be lying.So ashamed was the chief that he did not wish his people to look upon his face, therefore he bade his slave go down to the village and tell them to depart to some other place before morning. The people heard what the slave said and obeyed, and by sunrise they were all in their canoes—all, that is, except the chief's daughter, and the poor little boy and hisgrandmother. Now the grandmother had some pieces of dried salmon which she ate; but the chief's daughter would not eat, and the poor little boy would not eat either. The princess slept in a room at the back of the house and the poor little boy lay in the front, near the fire. All night long he lay there and thought of their poverty, and wondered if he could do anything to help them to grow richer. 'At any rate,' he said to himself, 'I shall never become a chief by lying in bed,' and as soon as some streaks of light were to be seen under the door, he dressed himself and left the house, running down to the bank of the great river which flowed by the town. There was a trail by the side of the river, and the poor little boy walked along the trail till he came to the shore of a lake; then he stopped and shouted. And as he shouted a wave seemed to rise on the top of the water, and out of it came the great frog who had charge of the lake, and drew near to the place where the poor little boy was standing. Terrible it was to look upon, with its long copper claws which moved always, its copper mouth and its shiny copper eyes. He was so frightened that his legs felt turned to stone; but when the frog put out its claws to fasten them in his shoulders, fear gave him wings, and he ran so fast that the frog could not reach him, and returned to the lake. On and on ran the poor little boy, till at last he found himself outside the woods where his grandmother and the chief's daughter were waiting for him. Then he sat still and rested; but he was very hungry, for all this time he had had nothing to eat, and the grandmother and the chief's daughter had had nothing to eat either.How the Boy shot the White Bear.How the Boy shot the White Bear.'We shall die if I cannot find some food,' said the poor little boy to himself, and he went out again to search the empty houses in the village, lest by chance the people might have left some dried salmon or a halibut behind them. He found neither salmon nor halibut, but he picked up in one place a stone axe, and in another a handle, and in a third a hammer. The axe and the handle he fastened together, and after sharpening the blade of the axe he began to cut down a tree. The tree was large, and the poor little boy was small, and hadnot much strength, so that dusk was approaching before the tree fell. The next thing he did was to split the tree and make a wide crack, which he kept open by wedging two short sticks across it. When this was done he placed the tree on the trail which led to the lake, and ran home again.Early in the morning he crept safely out, and went to the shore of the lake and shouted four times, looking up as he shouted at the sky. Again there arose a wave on the water, and out of it came the frog, with the copper eyes and mouth and claws. It hopped swiftly towards him, but now the poor little boy did not mind, and waited till it could almost touch him. Then he turned and fled along the trail where the tree lay. Easily he slipped between the two sticks, and was safe on the other side, but the great frog stuck fast, and the more it struggled to be free the tighter it was held.As soon as the poor little boy saw that the frog was firmly pinned between the bars, he took up his stone hammer which he had left beside the tree and dealt two sharp blows to the sticks that wedged open the crack. The sticks flew out and the crack closed with a snap, killing the frog as it did so. For awhile the poor little boy sat beside the tree quietly, but when he was sure the great frog must be quite dead, he put back the sticks to wedge open the crack and drew out the frog.'I must turn it on its back to skin it,' said he, and after a long time he managed to do this: But he did not take off the claws on the skin, which he spread on the ground to dry. After the skin was dried he put his arms and legs into it, and laced it firmly across his chest.'Now I must practise,' he said, and he jumped into the lake just as a frog would do, right down to the bottom. Then he walked along, till a trout in passing swished him with its tail, and quickly he turned and caught it in his hands. Holding the trout carefully, he swam up to the surface, and when he was on shore again he unlaced the skin and hung it on the branch of a tree, where no one was likely to see it.After that he went home and found his grandmother and the princess still sleeping, so he laid the trout on the beach in front of the house and curled himself up on his mat.By and bye the princess awoke, and the first thing she heard was the sound of a raven crying on the beach. So she quickly got out of bed and went to the place where the poor little boy was lying, and said to him:'Go down to the beach, and see why the raven is crying.'The poor little boy said nothing, but did her bidding, and in a few minutes he came back holding out the trout to the princess.'The raven brought this,' he said to her. But it was the trout which he himself had caught in the bottom of the lake; and he and his grandmother ate of it, but the princess would not eat. And every morning this same thing happened, but the princess would eat nothing, not even when the raven—for it was he, she thought—brought them a salmon.At last a night came when the princess could not sleep, and hearing a movement she rose softly and peeped through her curtain of skins. The poor little boy was getting ready to go out, and as she watched him she saw that he was a poor little boy no longer, but a tall youth. After a long, long time he crept in again and lay down, but the princess did not sleep; and when daylight broke and the raven called, she went to the beach herself, and beheld a large salmon on the sand. She took up the salmon, and carried it into the house, and stood before the poor little boy.'I know the truth now,' she said. 'It was you and not the raven who found the trout,' and the poor little boy answered:'Yes; it was I. My uncle deserted us all, and I had to get food. The frog lived in the lake, and when I called it, it came, and I set a trap for it and killed it; and by the help of its skin I dived into the lake likewise, and now I am great, for you have taken notice of me.''You shall marry me,' said the princess, and he married her, for he had ceased to be a poor little boy, and was grown to be a man. And whenever he went out to hunt or to fish, luck was with him, and he killed all that he sent his spear after, even whales and porpoises.Time passed and they had two children, and still his hunting prospered and he grew rich. But one day he suddenlyfelt very tired and he told his wife, who feared greatly that some evil should befall him.'Oh, cease hunting, I pray you!' said she. 'Surely you are rich enough'; but he would not listen, and hunted as much as ever.Now most of the people who had left the town at the chief's bidding were dead, and the chief never doubted but that his daughter and the poor little boy and the old grandmother were dead also. But at length some of those who survived, wished to behold their homes once more, and they set out in four canoes to the old place. As they drew near, they saw many storehouses all full of spoils from the sea, and four whales laid up outside. Greatly were they amazed, but they got out of their canoes and went up to speak to the young man who stood there, and he spread food before them, and gave them gifts when in the evening they said farewell. They hastened to tell their chief all that they had seen and heard, and he was glad, and bade his people move back to the town and live in their old houses. So the next day the canoes put to sea again, and the poor little boy opened his storehouses and feasted the people, and they chose him for their chief.'It grows harder every day to take off the frog blanket,' he said to his wife, and at his words she cried and would not take comfort. For now her husband could not rest contented at home, but hunted elks and bought slaves and was richer than any other chief had ever been before him. At length he told his uncle he wished to give a pot-latch or a great banquet, and he invited to it the Indians who dwelt many miles away. When they were all gathered together he called the people into the house, for in the centre of it he had placed his slaves and elk-skins and the other goods that he possessed.'You shall distribute them,' he said to his uncle, and his uncle bade him put on his head the great copper he had knocked down from the tree, and the skin of the white bear which he had killed when he was still a poor little boy. Thus with the copper on his head and the bear-skin on his shoulders he walked to the pile of elk-skins in the middle of the house and sang, for this was part of the ceremony of giving him aname to show that he was grown up. And after the song was ended the chief said:'Now I will call you by your name,' and the name that he gave him was Growing-up-like-one-who-has-a-grandmother, because his grandmother had always been so kind to him. After that the poor little boy took off the great copper and the bear-skin, and gave gifts to his guests, and they departed.The chief and his wife were left alone and he put on his frog blanket, for he was going to catch seals for the people to eat. But his face was sad and he said to his wife:'I shall return safely this time, but when next I put on that blanket I may not be able to take it off, and if I can't, perhaps I may never come home again. But I shall not forget you, and you will always find the seals and halibut and the salmon, which I shall catch for you, in front of the house.'He did not leave them quite as soon as he expected. For several days his wife who was always watching for him, saw him walk up the beach; then one day she watched in vain, for though salmon and whales were there, the poor little boy was not. Each morning she took her two children down to the shore and they stood looking over the waves crying bitterly as the tide went out, because they knew he could not come till it was high again.Food in plenty they had, and enough for the people of the town also, but the poor little boy never came home any more, for he had grown to be a frog, and was obliged to live in the sea.[From the Bureau of American Ethnology: TsimshianTexts by Franz Boas.]THE HANDLESS BRIGADEHave you ever thought what it would be like to have no arms, and be obliged to use your toes for everything? If not, try it on a wet day, and see how much you can manage to do. Yet, there are plenty of true stories of people born without hands, who have contrived by practice to teach their toes not only to supply the place ofordinaryfingers, but of very clever fingers, which is quite another matter! I myself once saw a young man in a Belgian gallery busily engaged in copying a picture, and as he had no arms he painted with his toes, seated on a high stool, to place him on the level he wanted. It was near the hour of closing when I happened to notice him, and after a few minutes during which I had watched him spellbound, he got down from his stool, kicked off one shoe, disclosing a stocking neatly cut across the toes, leaving them free. He then shut up his paint box, and picking up his brushes one by one dabbled them in a glass of water that stood near, and wiped them on a cloth, after which he put them carefully in their case, lying on a table.At the sight of this, I forgot my manners and uttered a cry of amazement, which I think rather pleased the painter, for everyone likes to feel that he can do something better than his fellows. At all events he knew I did not mean to be rude, for he went to his box on the floor, opened it, took up the top card printed with his name, Charles le Félu, from a packet, and presented it to me. Then he put on his hat which was hanging on a peg, bowed and walked away, the sleeves of his coat being so fastened that he looked like a man with his hands in his pockets.I kept that card till I was married, and obliged to throw away many of my treasures.James Caulfield, about the beginning of the last century, collected many stories of handless people—who were 'handless' in a very different sense from whatwemean, when we use the word. He tells us of a German called Valerius, who was born when Charles II. was on the throne of England, and like my friend the painter, had no arms. This would have seemed a terrible calamity if it had come alone, but before he was out of his boyhood both his parents died, and left him penniless. Happily for Valerius, his mother had been a sensible woman, and insisted that her son should learn to make his toes as useful as fingers. Perched on his high stool, he did his copies like another child, and in later life, when he became famous, often wrote lines round his portraits. But much better than writing copies, he loved to beat a drum. Now beating a drum does not sound nearly so difficult as writing copies, and perhaps he was allowed to do it as a treat when he had said his lessons without a mistake, but with practice he was able to play cards and throw dice as well as any of his friends. He certainly always shaved himself when he grew to be a man, but it is rather hard to believe that in fencing he used his rapier, which he held between his big toe and the next, 'with as much skill as his adversary,' standing on his left leg the while.The admiration of his playfellows at his cleverness filled him with pride, and Valerius was always trying fresh feats to show off to his audience.When it became necessary for him to earn his own living, he was able to support himself in comfort, travelling from one country to another, and always drawing crowds who came to see this Eighth Wonder of the world—for so they thought him. In his leisure hours he practised some of his old tricks, or learnt new ones, and in 1698 he came to England where he stayed for seven years. Many are the tales told of him during this time. Sometimes he would raise a chair with his toes, and put it in a different place; sometimes with the help of his teeth he would build towers made of dice, or he would lie on his back and, taking a glass of water in his toes, would carry it to his mouth. He could fire a pistol with his toes whenseated on a stool, and using both feet he could discharge a musket. This must have been the hardest thing of any, for the musket of those times was a clumsy, heavy weapon, and it was not easy to keep your balance when it went off.Then we have all of us heard of the famous Miss Biffin, who lived at the time when James Caulfield wrote his book. She went to the big fairs round London, and had a little booth all to herself. There, on payment of a small sum, visitors were admitted to see her sewing with a needle held by her toes, and sewing much more neatly than many of those who came to look at her would have been capable of doing with their fingers. And if they paid a little extra she would draw them, roughly, anything they wanted; or cut them out houses or dogs, or even likenesses of themselves on paper.Miss Biffin, it is pleasant to think, thoroughly enjoyed her life, and, far from feeling that she was to be pitied because she had no hands, was quite convinced that she was much superior to anybody with two.Perhaps the most wonderful of all the 'Handless Brigade' was a man called William Kingston, who was living in a village near Bristol in 1788. In that year a Mr. Walton happened to be staying in Bristol and was taken to see this marvel, of whom he writes an account to his friend John Wesley.On the entrance of the two gentlemen into his house Kingston did not lose a moment in giving them their money's worth. He was having breakfast, and after inviting them to sit down, took up his cup between his big toe and the next, and drank off his tea without spilling a drop. After waiting till he had buttered his toast and eaten as much as he wanted, Mr. Walton then 'put half a sheet of paper upon the floor, with a pen and an ink-horn. Kingston threw off his shoes as he sat, took the ink-horn in the toes of his left foot, and held the pen in those of his right. He then wrote three lines as well as most ordinary writers, and as swiftly. He writes out,' continues Walton, 'his bills and other accounts. He then showed how he shaves with a razor in his toes, and how he combs his own hair. He can dress and undress himself,except buttoning his clothes,' which really does not sound half as difficult as many of his other performances. 'He feeds himself and can bring both his meat and his broth to his mouth, by holding the fork or spoon in his toes. He cleans his own shoes; can clean the knives, light the fire, and do almost every domestic business as well as any other man. He can make his hen-coops. He is a farmer by occupation; he can milk his cows with his toes, and cut his own hay, bind it up in bundles, and carry it about the field for his cattle. Last winter he had eight heifers constantly to fodder. The last summer he made all his own hay-ricks. He can do all the business of the hay-field (except mowing) as fast and as well with only his feet, as others can with rakes and forks; he goes to the field and catches his horse; he saddles and bridles him with his feet and toes. If he has a sheep among his flock that ails anything, he can separate it from the rest, drive it into a corner, and catch it when nobody else can; he then examines it, and applies a remedy to it. He is so strong in his teeth that he can lift ten pecks of beans with them; he can throw a great sledge-hammer with his feet as other men can with their hands. In a word, he can do nearly as much without, as other men can with, their hands.''He began the world with a hen and chicken; with the profit of these he purchased an ewe. The sale of these procured him a ragged colt and then a better; after this he raised a few sheep, and now occupies a small farm.'It would be interesting to know how many of these astonishing feats Mr. Walton actually saw Kingston perform. But at any rate we put down his letter with the impression that to be bornwithfingers is a distinct disadvantage.THE SON OF THE WOLF CHIEFOnce upon a time a town near the North Pacific Ocean suffered greatly from famine and many of the Indians who lived there died of hunger. It was terrible to see them sitting before their doors, too weak and listless to move, and waiting silently and hopelessly for death to come. But there was one boy who behaved quite differently from the rest of the tribe. For some reason or otherheseemed quite strong on his legs, and all day long he would go into the fields or the woods, with his bow and arrows slung to his back, hoping to bring back a supper for himself and his mother.One morning when he was out as usual, he found a little animal that looked like a dog. It was such a round, funny little thing that he could not bear to kill it, so he put it under his warm blanket, and carried it home, and as it was very dirty from rolling about in the mud and snow, his mother washed it for him. When it was quite clean, the boy fetched some red paint which his uncle who had died of famine had used for smearing over their faces, and put it on the dog's head and legs so that he might always be able to trace it when they were hunting together.The boy got up early next morning and took his dog into the woods and the hills. The little beast was very quick and sharp, and it was not long before the two got quite a number of grouse and birds of all sorts; and as soon as they had enough for that day and the next, they returned to the wigwam and invited their neighbours to supper with them.A short time after, the boy was out on the hills wondering where the dog had gone, for, in spite of the red paint, he was to be seen nowhere. At length he stood still and put his earto the ground and listened with all his might, and that means a great deal, for Indian ears are much cleverer at hearing than European ones. Then he heard a whine which sounded as if it came from a long way off, so he jumped up at once and walked and walked till he reached a small hollow, where he found that the dog had killed one of the mountain sheep.'Can it reallybea dog?' said the boy to himself. 'I don't know; I wish I did. But at any rate, it deserves to be treated like one,' and when the sheep was cooked, the dog—if it was a dog—was given all the fat part.After this, never a day passed without the boy and the dog bringing home meat, and thanks to them the people began to grow fat again. But if the dog killed many sheep at once, the boy was always careful to give it first the best for itself.Some weeks later the husband of the boy's sister came to him and said:'Lend me your dog, it will help me greatly.' So the boy went and brought the dog from the little house he had made for it, and painted its head and its feet, and carried it to his brother-in-law.'Give it the first thing that is killed as I always do,' observed the boy, but the man answered nothing, only put the dog in his blanket.Now the brother-in-law was greedy and selfish and wanted to keep everything for himself; so after the dog had killed a whole flock of sheep in the fields, the man threw it a bit of the inside which nobody else would touch, exclaiming rudely:'Here, take that! It is quite good enough for you.'But the dog would not touch it either, and ran away to the mountains, yelping loudly.The man had to bring back all the sheep himself, and it was evening before he reached the village. The first person he saw was the boy who was waiting about for him.'Where is the dog?' asked he, and the man answered:'It ran away from me.'On hearing this the boy put no more questions, but he called his sister and said to her:'Tell me the truth. What did your husband do to the dog? I did not want to let it go, because I guessed what would happen.'And the wife answered:'He threw the inside of a sheep to it, and that is why it ran off.'When the boy heard this, he felt very sad, and turned to go into the mountains in search of the dog. After walking some time he found the marks of its paws, and smears of red paint on the grass. But all this time the boy never knew that the dog was really the son of the Wolf Chief and had been sent by his father to help him, and he did not guess that from the day that he painted red paint round its face and on its feet a wolf can be told far off by the red on its paws and round its mouth.The marks led a long, long way, and at length they brought him to a lake, with a town on the opposite side of it, where people seemed to be playing some game, as the noise that they made reached all the way across.'I must try if I can get over there,' he said, and as he spoke, he noticed a column of smoke coming right up from the ground under his feet, and a door flew open.'Enter!' cried a voice, so he entered, and discovered that the voice belonged to an old woman, who was called 'Woman-always-wondering.''Grandchild, why are you here?' she asked, and he answered:'I found a young dog who helped me to get food for the people, but it is lost and I am seeking it.''Its people live right across there,' replied the woman. 'It is the Wolf Chief's son, and that is his father's town where the noise comes from.''How can I get over the lake?' he said to himself, but the old woman guessed what he was thinking and replied:'My little canoe is just below here.''It might turn over with me,' he thought, and again she answered him:'Take it down to the shore and shake it before you get in,and it will soon become large. Then stretch yourself in the bottom, and, instead of paddling, wish with all your might to reach the town.'The boy did as he was told, and by and bye he arrived on the other side of the lake. He shook the canoe a second time, and it shrunk into a mere toy-boat which he put in his pocket, and after that he went and watched some boys who were playing with a thing that was like a rainbow.'Where is the chief's house?' he asked when he was tired of looking at their game.'At the other end of the village,' they said, and he walked on till he reached a place where a large fire was burning, with people sitting round it. The chief was there too, and the boy saw his little wolf playing about near his father.'There is a man here,' exclaimed the Wolf Chief. 'Vanish all of you!' and the wolf-people vanished instantly, all but the little wolf, who ran up to the boy and smelt him and knew him at once. As soon as the Wolf Chief beheld that, he said:'I am your friend; fear nothing. I sent my son to help you because you were starving, and I am glad you have come in quest of him.' But after a pause, he added:'Still, I do not think I will let him go back with you; but I will aid you in some other way,' and the boy did not guess that the reason the chief was so pleased to see him was because he had painted the little wolf. Yet, as he glanced at the little beast again, he observed with surprise that it did not look like a wolf any longer, but like a human being.'Take out the fish-hawk's quill that is hanging on the wall, and if you should meet a bear point the quill straight at it, and it will fly out of your hand. I will also give you this,' and he opened a box and lifted out a second quill stuck in a blanket. 'If you lay this side on a sick person, it will cure him; and if you lay the other side on your enemy, it will kill him. Thus you can grow rich by healing sick people.'So the boy and the Wolf Chief made friends, and they talked together a long time, and the boy put many questions about things he had seen in the town, which puzzled him.'What was the toy the children were playing with?' he asked at last.'That toy belongs to me,' answered the chief. 'If it appears to you in the evening it means bad weather, and if it appears in the morning it means fine weather. Then we know that we can go out on the lake. It is a good toy.''But,' continued he, 'you must depart now, and, before you leave eat this, for you have a long journey to make and you will need strength for it;' and he dropped something into the boy's mouth.And the boy did not guess that he had been absent for two years, and thought it was only two nights.Then he journeyed back to his own town, not a boy any more, but a man. Near the first house he met a bear and he held the quill straight towards it. Away it flew and hit the bear right in the heart; so there was good meat for hungry people. Further on, he passed a flock of sheep, and the quill slew them all and he drew it out from the heart of the last one. He cooked part of a sheep for himself and hid the rest where he knew he could find them. After that he entered the town.It seemed strangely quiet. What had become of all his friends and of the children whom he had left behind him when he left to seek for his dog? He opened the door of a hut and peeped in: three or four bodies were stretched on the floor, their bones showing through their skin, dead of starvation; for after the boy had gone to the mountains there was no one to bring them food. He opened another door, and another and another; everywhere it was the same story. Then he remembered the gift of the Wolf Chief, and he drew the quill out of his blanket and laid one side of it against their bodies, so that they all came to life again, and once more the town was full of noise and gaiety.'Now come and hunt with me,' he said; but he did not show them his quill lest he should lose it as he had lost the dog. And when they beheld a flock of mountain sheep grazing, he let fly the quill so quickly that nobody saw it go, neither did they see him pull out the quill and hide it in his blanket.After that they made a fire and all sat down to dine, and those who were not his friends gave him payment for the meat.For the rest of his life the man journeyed from place to place, curing the sick and receiving payment from their kinsfolk. But those who had been dead for many years took a long while to get well, and their eyes were always set deep back in their heads, and had a look as if they had seen something.[Tlingit Myths.]
Children are often inclined to think that the nations who ruled the world long, long ago, were quite unlike ourselves, and always busy with very serious things, such as the passing of laws or fighting. It is quite a surprise sometimes to learn that they really shared our feelings on a whole quantity of subjects, and even, as this story will show, were quite as much afraid of ghosts or haunted houses as anybody in these days could be. It is told by a famous Roman citizen called Pliny, who was born near Lake Como in the reign of the Emperor Nero.
There was, he says, at that time a large and comfortable house in a good part of the town of Athens which, to the astonishment of everybody, stood empty for many years. It seemed odd that so fine a building should remain so long unoccupied, and at length one man more curious than the rest asked his host when at a small dinner party if he could explain the reason. The tale he heard from the Athenian noble was a marvellous one, and the guest shuddered as he listened, for though he was bold enough in the field of battle, he trembled in the presence of that which he did not understand.
Once the house had been filled with a gay family; music had floated through the garden, children had played at knuckle bones in the hall, and young men had thrown discs in the courts. But gradually sounds of laughter grew more rare and the dwellers in the house fell ill of mysterious maladies, till at last the few that were left departed for another place, hoping amidst new surroundings to shake off the gloom which possessed them. For a while none dared ask why the home of their fathers had been thus forsaken; but little by littlewhispers of the truth got abroad, and it was noticed that men turned down another street sooner than pass the empty mansion.
A little girl was the first to hear the noise and sat up straight in her bed with wide-open eyes peering into the darkness, too frightened even to call to her slave, as a sound like the clanking of chains struck upon her ear. It seemed to come from very far off; but soon, to the child's wild terror, it drew closer and closer, till she expected every moment to feel the touch of the cold iron on her cheek. Then, to her immense relief, it became fainter, and went farther and farther away, by and bye dying out altogether.
Such was the tale the little girl told to her mother in the morning, and very shortly there was not a person in the house who had not been roused by the mysterious noise. For a time this was all that happened, and though it was bad enough, perhaps it might have been borne; but there was worse to come. One night the form of an old man appeared, so thin you could almost see his bones, his hair standing up like bristles, and a white beard flowing to his waist. On his wrists and ankles were iron chains, which shook as he moved. Henceforward there was no sleep for any of the household; their days were passed in dread of the nights, and one by one they fell a prey to their terrors. At length there came a time when the living skeletons could endure it no longer and fled, leaving the ghost behind them. Such was the tale told to the guest, but the end was yet to come.
Years passed by, and the survivors began gradually to recover their health and spirits, and wondered if things had really been so bad as they had thought, and if some stranger, ignorant of the story, might not be persuaded to take the house if the rent was made low enough. So a notice was put up in a public place, offering the mansion for sale or hire, and one of the first to read it happened to be Athenodorus the philosopher, who had arrived on a visit to Athens. He knew nothing of the evil reputation which belonged to the house, but the low price asked aroused his suspicions, and he at once inquired why so fine a dwelling should be offered for so little. With somedifficulty he managed to piece together the true story, and when he heard it, instantly took the house, resolved to find out if possible the secret of the ghost.
ATHENODORUS CONFRONTS THE SPECTRE.ATHENODORUS CONFRONTS THE SPECTRE.
As it grew dark, he bade his slave carry a couch for him to the front part of the mansion, and place a lamp and writing materials on a table near it. He afterwards dismissed the slaves to their own quarters, and turned his whole attention to the book he happened to be writing, so that he might not from idleness fancy he saw or heard all sorts of things which were not there. For a little while he worked amidst dead silence; then a faint sound as of the clanking of chains smote on his ears, always coming nearer and nearer, and growing louder and louder. But Athenodorus, as became a philosopher, was master of himself, even at this moment. He gave no sign of having heard anything out of the common, and his sharp-pointed instrument never faltered for an instant in drawing the words on the waxen tablet. In a few seconds the noise reached the door; next, it was within the door and coming down the room. At last Athenodorusdidlift his head and beheld the figure he had been told of standing close to him, and signalling with his finger. In reply the philosopher waved his hand, begging the ghost to wait until he had finished the sentence he was writing, and this he succeeded in doing in spite of the fact that the figure incessantly rattled the chains close to his ears. Athenodorus, however, would not hurry himself, and wrote on deliberately. Then he laid down his stylus and looked round. The ghost was again beckoning to him, so he took up the lamp and motioned the figure to go before him. With a slow step, as of one who carries a heavy weight on his feet, the old man walked through the house as far as the courtyard, where he vanished quite suddenly; nor could the philosopher discover the smallest trace of him, though he searched every corner carefully by the aid of his lamp. As it was now night and too late to examine further, Athenodorus made a little heap of leaves and grass to mark the spot where the figure disappeared, and returned to his couch where he slept peacefully till dawn.
When he awoke next morning he at once visited a magistrateof the city and, after telling his story, begged that some men might be sent to dig up that part of the courtyard. The magistrate gave the order without delay, and, accompanied by Athenodorus, the slaves set about their task. A few feet from the surface the pickaxes struck upon iron and the philosopher drew nearer, for he felt that the secret of the haunting was about to be disclosed. And so it was, for there lay a heap of bones with chains fastened to them.
How they came there, how long they had been there, whose bones they were, none could tell; but they were collected in a box and buried by order of the magistrate, at the expense of the public. This seemed to satisfy the unquiet spirit, for the house was henceforward left in peace, and as Athenodorus had no further interest in the matter its owners were free to return and dwell there, which they gladly did.
[FromPliny's Letters.]
Few people can have crowded more occupations into a life of twenty-six years than James Maclean.
His father, a Scot by birth, had settled in the Irish county of Monaghan, where the position of minister to a body of dissenters had been offered him. From the first moment of his coming amongst them Mr. Maclean was much liked by his congregation, who carried all their troubles to him, sure that if he could not help them, he would at least give them advice and sympathy, and there was not one of them who did not drink his health with his whole heart when the minister married the daughter of a gentleman in the neighbourhood.
More than twenty years passed away quietly and happily. The Macleans had two sons, and the elder one early showed a wish to follow his father's profession, and, at an age when most young men are still at the University, received a 'call' to a Protestant congregation at the Hague.
James, the younger, was educated for a merchant, and as soon as he was eighteen was to go into a counting-house and learn his business. Unfortunately, just before he reached the date fixed, his father died, leaving the youth his own master—for as no mention is made of his mother, it is probable she was dead also. Without consulting anyone, James threw up the post which old Maclean had taken so much pains to get for him, and withdrawing the money left him by the will, from the bank, spent it all in a few months on racing and betting.
Of course he was not allowed to make himself a beggar in this silly way without an effort to save him on the part of his mother's friends. But from a child he had always thoughthe knew better than anyone else, and quarrelled with those who took a different view. Naturally, when the money had all disappeared without anything to show for it, he chose to forget how rude he had been, and expected his relations to support him in idleness, which they absolutely refused to do. At length, not knowing which way to turn, he was glad enough to become the valet of a certain Mr. Howard, who was on his way to England. When he liked, the young Irishman could make himself as pleasant as most of his countrymen, and Mr. Howard took a great fancy to him, and treated him with much kindness. But from first to last James never knew when he was well off, and after a while he returned to his old ways, and frequently stayed out all night, drinking and gambling. In vain did Mr. Howard warn him that unless he gave up these habits he would certainly be dismissed. The young man paid no heed to his words, and in the end his master's patience was exhausted, and one day James found himself on board the Irish boat, without a character and nothing but his quarter's wages in his pockets.
Now James Maclean was one of those people who are totally without a sense of shame, and if once a person cannot be made ashamed of what he has done, and always imagines himself to be the victim of bad luck or of somebody else, his case is hopeless. On this occasion he was quite convinced that it was the duty of his relations to supply him with an income, or at least with a home, and when as before refusals met him on all sides, he applied not for the first or even the second time, to his brother at the Hague for help. We do not know what excuse he made for his request, but we may be quite certain it was not the true one; still whether his brother believed him or not, he sent him a small sum, probably at the cost of great self-denial, for the salaries of ministers were not high. This money, as was to be expected, went the way of the rest, and again James found himself penniless and reduced to look for a place as a servant.
Hearing that a Colonel in the British army who had served abroad with some of his Scotch uncles was in need of a butler,young Maclean went to see him, and was lucky enough to obtain the situation, though he knew as little of a butler's work as he did of a printer's. He was, however, quick at picking up anything that he chose and contrived to keep this place for a year or two, till the Colonel discovered that his butler had been carrying out a system of robbery ever since he had been in his house. After a few words from his master, James was once more cast on the world, and had some idea of enlisting in the Irish brigade then serving under the French flag, and this would have been the best thing that could have happened to him. But as, on inquiry, he learned that unless he became a Roman Catholic he would be refused a commission, he changed his mind and resolved to remain where he was.
'Well, I suppose there is nothing for it but a humble letter to the Colonel,' thought James one day, when he heard from a man whom he met at a tavern that his late master was on his way to England. So calling for paper and a pen, he composed a letter to such good purpose and so full of lies, that the kindhearted Colonel really believed he had repented, and offered to take him back, desiring at the same time that James should take his baggage by sea to London, and allowing him a shilling a day for his food.
It was with mingled feelings of contempt and relief that the young reprobate read his master's reply. 'What a fool he is!' he said to himself, adding after a moment 'Well, after all, it is lucky for me!'
But the Colonel, good-natured though he was, knew too much about master James to give credit to his stories, and declined a request, made soon after their arrival in London, to purchase a commission for his late butler, with a view to enabling him to marry an heiress. Yet when he discovered that Maclean had really enlisted in Lord Albemarle's regiment of horse-guards, he consented to give him the ten pounds necessary for the purpose, which, to keep it the more safely, was placed in the hands of one of the officers. Whether Maclean ever succeeded in handling the money seems doubtful, for as soon as his papers were made out and he was ordered to join thearmy in Flanders, he suddenly disappeared, and the troopship sailed without him.
There must have been something very attractive about this rogue, for whatever desperate plight he was in he always contrived to fall on his feet; and when he thought it safe to emerge from the place where he was in hiding while there was a hue and cry raised after the deserter, it was in the character of a man anxious to start for the West Indies—if someone would only lend him fifty pounds!
Someonedidlend it to him, and it was instantly spent on fine clothes which captured the heart of Miss Macglegno, the daughter of a horse-dealer, with five hundred pounds to her dowry.
This time, Maclean did not dare to throw about the money as he had previously done, but with his father-in-law's eye upon him, he opened a grocer's shop in Welbeck Street, hoping that the fashionable people who had come to live in the big new houses in Cavendish Square might give him their custom. But his wife speedily saw that if the business was to prosper she must look after it herself, as her husband could be depended on for nothing. Therefore she set to work, and for three years all went well, and the neighbours said to each other that it was fortunate she was such a stirring woman, as though Master Maclean was a harmless sort of man he was apt to be lazy.
At the end of this period Mrs. Maclean died, after a short illness, and her two little girls went to live with their grandmother. Left alone, James neglected the shop more and more, and at length it grew plain to himself, as well as to everybody else, that if any money was to be saved at all, the goods must be sold for what they would fetch. And once sold, it is easy to guess how quickly the gold melted in James's pocket.
It was not till he had come to his last shilling—or at any rate his last pound—that Maclean began to ask himself 'What next?' After these years of comfort and plenty—and idleness—it would be hard to become a servant again, yet hecould not see any other means of keeping himself from starving.
He was slowly getting accustomed to the idea of seeking for a servant's place, when one day he met in the streets an apothecary named Plunket, whom he had known in Monaghan.
'How now?' asked Plunket. 'Is anything the matter? You look as if you were on the road to be hung at Tyburn.'
'The matter is that to-morrow I shall not have a penny in the world,' answered Maclean, gloomily.
'Oh, things are never so bad as they seem,' said Plunket. 'Cheer up. Perhaps I can find a way to supply you withmorepennies. It only wants a little pluck and spirit! Ifwehaven't got any money, there are plenty of other people who have.'
Maclean was silent. He understood at once what Plunket meant, and that he was being offered a partnership in a scheme of highway robbery. He had, as we know, stolen small sums before, but that felt to him a very different thing from stopping travellers along the road, and demanding 'their money or their life.' However, he soon shook off his scruples, and was ready to take his part in any scheme that Plunket should arrange.
'You are in luck just now,' said his tempter, who all this time had been watching his face and read the thoughts that were passing through his mind. 'I heard only this morning of a farmer who has sold a dozen fat oxen at the Smithfield Market, and will be riding home this evening with the money in his saddle-bags. If he had any sense he would have started early and ridden in company, but I know my gentleman well, and dare swear he will not leave the tavern outside the market till dusk is falling. So if we lie in wait for him on Hounslow Heath, he cannot escape us.'
It was autumn, and dark at seven o'clock, when the farmer, not as sober as he might have been, came jogging along. He was more than half-way across, and was already thinking how best to spend the sixty pounds his beasts had brought him, when out of a hollow by the roadside sprang two men with masks and pistols, which were pointed straight at his horse's head.
'Your money or your life,' said one of them, while the other stood silent; and with trembling fingers the farmer unloaded his saddle-bags, and delivered up his watch. As soon as Plunket saw there was no more to be got out of him, he gave the horse a smart cut on his flanks, and the animal bounded away.
All this while Maclean had not uttered a word, nor had he laid a finger on the victim. He had in reality trembled with fear quite as much as the farmer, and it was not till they were safe in Plunket's garret off Soho Square that he breathed freely.
'Sixty pounds, do you say? Not bad for one night's work,' cried Plunket. 'Well, friend James, I will give you ten pounds for your share, which I call handsome, seeing you did not even cock your pistol! But perhaps it is all one could expect for the first time, only on the next occasion you must do better. And you might just as well, you know, as if the officers of the peace catch you they will hang you to a certainty, never stopping to ask questions as to your share in the matter.'
Maclean nodded. He saw the truth of this, and besides, the excitement of the adventure began to stir his blood, and he was soon counting the days till he heard from Plunket again. On this occasion a travelling carriage was to be stopped on the St. Albans road, and it was settled that Maclean should present his pistol to the coachman's head, while Plunket secured the booty. But when it came to the point, James's face was so white, and the fingers which held the pistol so shaky, that Plunket saw they had better change parts, and indeed, as the gentleman inside offered no resistance whatever, and meekly yielded up everything of value he had about him, Maclean succeeded in doing all that was required of him by his partner.
'Much goodyouare!' said Plunket, when they had plunged into the neighbouring wood. 'If I had not been there that coachman would have stunned you with the butt end of his whip. You are the lion who was born without claws or teeth! A cat would have been as useful.'
'Yes, I know,' answered Maclean hurriedly, feeling verymuch ashamed of himself. 'I can't think what was the matter with me—I suppose I'm not quite accustomed to it yet.' And that very evening, to prove to Plunket—and himself—that he was not such a coward as he seemed, he attacked a gentleman in Hyde Park and robbed him of a gold watch and chain and a small sum of money.
After this Maclean shook off his timidity, and became known to his brother highwaymen as one of the most daring and successful 'gentlemen of the road,'—for so the people called them. Only on one occasion did he run any risk of being caught, and then he took refuge on board a vessel that was sailing for Holland, and sought out his brother at the Hague.
'It is so long since we have seen each other, I could not but come,' he said to the minister, who, suspecting nothing, was delighted to welcome him, and insisted on hearing the story of James's life since they had last parted. For a whole evening the good man listened to a moving tale, not one word of which was true, except that which related to James's marriage and the starting of the grocer's shop. The minister praised and pitied, and told it all to his friends, rich and prosperous citizens who were proud to invite the fine gentleman from London to their parties. And if at the end of the evening some purses and watches were missing, well! they might have been robbed on their way hither, or have forgotten them at home. At any rate, nobody dreamed for one moment of suspecting their minister's guest.
But in spite of all the precautions which, notwithstanding his recklessness, Maclean thought well to take—in spite of his silence respecting his own affairs, and his frequent changes of lodgings so that no one might connect him with one particular neighbourhood, he at last put the rope round his own neck by an act of gross carelessness.
On the morning of June 26, 1750, James robbed Lord Eglinton in his travelling carriage, and a little later in the same day attacked the Salisbury coach, in company with Plunket.They escaped as usual, Maclean carrying with him a bag containing several suits of fine clothes, trimmed with beautiful lace, belonging to one of the passengers named Higden. Maclean's first care was to strip off the lace, and to send a message to a dealer that he had some clothes to sell, if the man would call to see them at his address. At the time, the dealer chanced to be busy and could not come, and by the following morning, when he made his way to Maclean's rooms, an advertisement was out describing the garments so exactly that the man instantly recognised them, and gave information to the magistrate.
That night the 'gentleman highwayman' was arrested on a warrant, and carried to the prison of Newgate, and Plunket, who had been uneasy since the dealer's visit, and was on the watch, hurried to the coast in disguise and hid on board a smuggler's boat, bound for France. Maclean remained to take his trial, and after first confessing and then denying his confession, was convicted of robbery on the King's highway, and was hanged at the gallows erected at Tyburn, where the corner of Connaught Square and the Edgware Road now stand. He was at the period of his execution only twenty-six, yet he had contrived to do more mean and base deeds than most rogues of sixty.
MACLEAN AND PLUNKET STOP LORD EGLINTON'S CARRIAGEMACLEAN AND PLUNKET STOP LORD EGLINTON'S CARRIAGE
It was the evening of October 7, 1571, when the Christian fleet, under the command of Don John of Austria, had defeated the Turks at the battle of Lepanto—one of the 'Fifteen Decisive Battles of the World.' Far away from the narrow Greek seas, where the victory had been gained, the Pope, Pius V, was in his palace of the Vatican in Rome, discussing business with his treasurer, Busotti of Bibiana. Pope Pius suffered from a painful complaint which made him very restless, and he always preferred to stand or walk about, rather than to sit. He was therefore pacing the room, putting questions or listening to statements as he did so, when suddenly he broke off in the middle of a sentence and stood still with his neck stretched out in the attitude of a person whose ears are strained to catch some sound, at the same time signing to Busotti to keep silent. After a moment's pause he approached the window and threw it open, always in the same listening attitude, while Busotti, half frightened, sat watching. Then in an instant a look of rapture passed over the face of Pius, and lifting his head he raised his clasped hands to Heaven as if in thanksgiving. At this sight Busotti understood that something strange was happening which he could not see, and he remained awed and still for three minutes, as he afterwards swore. When the three minutes were ended the Pope aroused himself from his ecstasy, and with a countenance shining with joy, spoke to Busotti:
'This is not the hour for business. Let us give thanks to God for our great victory over the Turks,' and he retired into his oratory.
Left at liberty the treasurer hastened to give an account ofthese strange events to various bishops and cardinals, who desired that it should instantly be taken down in writing, the time and place of the scene being carefully noted. They ordered further, that when sealed, the document should be deposited for safety in the house of a lawyer. This, it will be remembered, was on October 7, but the first news of the battle was not received in Rome till the 26th, when a messenger arrived from the Doge of Venice, Mocenigo, followed three or four days later by one from Don John himself. Then calculations were made of the difference of time between the longitude of Rome and that of the islands off the Greek coast where the battle was fought, with the result that it was proved that the vision of the Pope had occurred at the precise moment in which Don John had sprung, sword in hand, from his place in the centre of his galley to beat back the Turks who were swarming over the bulwarks.
The repelling of the attack had turned the scale in the fortunes of the day, and the power of the Turks over Christendom was broken for ever.
That was the name of a little Indian boy living on the North-West coast of America, and a very odd name it is, as well as a very long one. To be sure, in his own language it could all be put into seventeen letters, while in English it takes thirty-four, as you will find if you count them, and thatdoesmake a difference.
However, though we should have preferred a name that was shorter and prettier, there is something satisfactory about this one, for a little boy who has a grandmother is likely to be well fed and petted, and made to feel himself a person of importance, and that is pleasant to everybody. But it also means in general that he has lost his father and mother, which had happened to this particular little boy. They had died a long while before, and now there only remained his grandmother and his mother's brother, who was chief of the village.
One evening the chief was sitting on the beach gazing up at the sky. And while he gazed, fire came right down like a shooting star, and struck the point of a branch which grew on a tree behind his house. As it touched the branch it became solid and hung there, shining like copper. When the chief saw this he arose and walked to the house and said to the people inside:
'There is a great piece of copper hanging from that tree. Bid the young men go and knock it down and whichever hits it shall marry my daughter.'
Quite a crowd of youths gathered at the back of the chief's house early next morning, and many of the old men camelikewise to watch the sport. All day the young Indians threw stones till their hands became sore and their arms ached, but never once did the lump of copper move. At last for very weariness they had to rest, and eat some food. After that they felt better and went on throwing stones till darkness fell, but still no one had hit the copper.
As soon as the stars peeped out the poor little boy who had been looking on also ran down to the beach, as his uncle had done, and laid himself upon a rock. By and bye a man approached him and said:
'What are the village people talking about? They make a great noise!'
'A lump of copper is hanging on the tree and they were trying to knock it down, but nobody succeeded,' answered the boy; and as he spoke, the man stooped and picked up four pebbles.
'It is you who shall knock it down,' said he. 'First you must throw the white stone, then the black stone, then the blue stone, and last of all the red stone. But be careful not to show them to anybody.'
'I will be careful,' replied the boy.
On the following morning all the people returned to the place behind the house, and the poor little boy went with them.
'I am going to throw, too,' said he, and the young men tried to push him aside, asking scornfully how one so small could hope to succeed when they had failed. But the old men would not allow them to have their way, and said:
'Let him throw, too; the chief has given leave to everybody, and he can but fail as you have done. He shall throw first.' So the poor little boy stepped forward, and taking out the white stone swung it round his head so that it whistled four times before he let it go. It flew very near the copper, nearer than any of the young men's stones had flown, and the black and the blue almost grazed it. The young men looking on grew uncomfortable and ceased mocking, and as the poor little boy drew out the red stone, they held their breath. Swiftly it shot through the air and struck the copper with a great clang, so that it fell down to the earth. The old men nodded their headswisely, but the young men quickly picked up the copper and carried it into the chief's house, each man crying out that it was he who had hit the copper and had gained the chief's daughter. But as they could notallhave hit it, the chief knew that they were a pack of liars and only bade them wait a while, and he would see. As for the poor little boy, he did not want to marry the girl or anyone else, so he did not mind what the young men said.
Nothing more was heard that day of the winner of the prize, but at night a white bear came to the back of the house, and growled loudly.
'Whoever kills that white bear shall marry my daughter,' said the chief, and not a youth slept all through the village, wondering how best to kill the white bear, and between them they made so many plans that it seemed as if the white bear could never escape. In the evening, the poor little boy went down to the beach again, and sat upon a rock looking out to sea, till at last he beheld a man approaching him, but it was not the same man whom he had seen before.
'What are the people talking about in the village?' asked the man, just as the other had done, and the poor little boy answered:
'Last night a white bear appeared behind the house. Whoever kills it shall marry the chief's daughter.'
The man nodded his head and thought for a moment; then he said:
'Ask the chief for a bow and arrow: you shall shoot it.' So the poor little boy got up and left the beach, and returned to the village.
When it grew dark, all the young men met in the house of the chief, and the poor little boy stole in after them. The chief took from a shelf a tall quiver containing a quantity of bows and arrows, and he held them to the fire in order to make them supple. Then he gave a bow and two arrows to each man, but to the poor little boy, his own nephew, he gave nothing.
'Give me a bow and arrows also,' said the poor little boy,when he saw that the chief did not notice him, and the young men broke out into scoffs and jeers as they had done before; and as before, the old men answered:
'Give a bow and arrows to the poor little boy.' And the chief listened and gave them to him.
All that night the young men sat up, listening, listening; but it was only before daybreak that they heard the white bear's growl. At the first sound they ran out, and the poor little boy ran out with them, and he ran more swiftly than they and shot his arrow. And the arrow passed right through the neck of the bear, so that when the poor little boy pulled it out it was covered with blood.
By this time the young men had come up and found the bear dead, so they dipped their arrows in the blood, and picking up the bear, carried it into the house of the chief, the poor little boy coming behind them.
'It was I who shot the bear; we are bringing him to you,' shouted one quicker to speak than the rest; but the chief was a wise man, and only answered:
'Let every man give me his bow and arrows, that I may examine them, and see who has killed the white bear.'
Now the young men did not like that saying, but they were forced to obey.
'Give me your bow and arrows also,' he said to the poor little boy, and the poor little boy handed them to him, and the chief knew by the marks that it was he who shot the white bear. And the young men saw by his eyes that he knew it, but they all kept silence: the chief because he was ashamed that a boy had done these two things where grown men had failed; the young men, because they were ashamed that they had lied and had been found to be lying.
So ashamed was the chief that he did not wish his people to look upon his face, therefore he bade his slave go down to the village and tell them to depart to some other place before morning. The people heard what the slave said and obeyed, and by sunrise they were all in their canoes—all, that is, except the chief's daughter, and the poor little boy and hisgrandmother. Now the grandmother had some pieces of dried salmon which she ate; but the chief's daughter would not eat, and the poor little boy would not eat either. The princess slept in a room at the back of the house and the poor little boy lay in the front, near the fire. All night long he lay there and thought of their poverty, and wondered if he could do anything to help them to grow richer. 'At any rate,' he said to himself, 'I shall never become a chief by lying in bed,' and as soon as some streaks of light were to be seen under the door, he dressed himself and left the house, running down to the bank of the great river which flowed by the town. There was a trail by the side of the river, and the poor little boy walked along the trail till he came to the shore of a lake; then he stopped and shouted. And as he shouted a wave seemed to rise on the top of the water, and out of it came the great frog who had charge of the lake, and drew near to the place where the poor little boy was standing. Terrible it was to look upon, with its long copper claws which moved always, its copper mouth and its shiny copper eyes. He was so frightened that his legs felt turned to stone; but when the frog put out its claws to fasten them in his shoulders, fear gave him wings, and he ran so fast that the frog could not reach him, and returned to the lake. On and on ran the poor little boy, till at last he found himself outside the woods where his grandmother and the chief's daughter were waiting for him. Then he sat still and rested; but he was very hungry, for all this time he had had nothing to eat, and the grandmother and the chief's daughter had had nothing to eat either.
How the Boy shot the White Bear.How the Boy shot the White Bear.
'We shall die if I cannot find some food,' said the poor little boy to himself, and he went out again to search the empty houses in the village, lest by chance the people might have left some dried salmon or a halibut behind them. He found neither salmon nor halibut, but he picked up in one place a stone axe, and in another a handle, and in a third a hammer. The axe and the handle he fastened together, and after sharpening the blade of the axe he began to cut down a tree. The tree was large, and the poor little boy was small, and hadnot much strength, so that dusk was approaching before the tree fell. The next thing he did was to split the tree and make a wide crack, which he kept open by wedging two short sticks across it. When this was done he placed the tree on the trail which led to the lake, and ran home again.
Early in the morning he crept safely out, and went to the shore of the lake and shouted four times, looking up as he shouted at the sky. Again there arose a wave on the water, and out of it came the frog, with the copper eyes and mouth and claws. It hopped swiftly towards him, but now the poor little boy did not mind, and waited till it could almost touch him. Then he turned and fled along the trail where the tree lay. Easily he slipped between the two sticks, and was safe on the other side, but the great frog stuck fast, and the more it struggled to be free the tighter it was held.
As soon as the poor little boy saw that the frog was firmly pinned between the bars, he took up his stone hammer which he had left beside the tree and dealt two sharp blows to the sticks that wedged open the crack. The sticks flew out and the crack closed with a snap, killing the frog as it did so. For awhile the poor little boy sat beside the tree quietly, but when he was sure the great frog must be quite dead, he put back the sticks to wedge open the crack and drew out the frog.
'I must turn it on its back to skin it,' said he, and after a long time he managed to do this: But he did not take off the claws on the skin, which he spread on the ground to dry. After the skin was dried he put his arms and legs into it, and laced it firmly across his chest.
'Now I must practise,' he said, and he jumped into the lake just as a frog would do, right down to the bottom. Then he walked along, till a trout in passing swished him with its tail, and quickly he turned and caught it in his hands. Holding the trout carefully, he swam up to the surface, and when he was on shore again he unlaced the skin and hung it on the branch of a tree, where no one was likely to see it.
After that he went home and found his grandmother and the princess still sleeping, so he laid the trout on the beach in front of the house and curled himself up on his mat.
By and bye the princess awoke, and the first thing she heard was the sound of a raven crying on the beach. So she quickly got out of bed and went to the place where the poor little boy was lying, and said to him:
'Go down to the beach, and see why the raven is crying.'
The poor little boy said nothing, but did her bidding, and in a few minutes he came back holding out the trout to the princess.
'The raven brought this,' he said to her. But it was the trout which he himself had caught in the bottom of the lake; and he and his grandmother ate of it, but the princess would not eat. And every morning this same thing happened, but the princess would eat nothing, not even when the raven—for it was he, she thought—brought them a salmon.
At last a night came when the princess could not sleep, and hearing a movement she rose softly and peeped through her curtain of skins. The poor little boy was getting ready to go out, and as she watched him she saw that he was a poor little boy no longer, but a tall youth. After a long, long time he crept in again and lay down, but the princess did not sleep; and when daylight broke and the raven called, she went to the beach herself, and beheld a large salmon on the sand. She took up the salmon, and carried it into the house, and stood before the poor little boy.
'I know the truth now,' she said. 'It was you and not the raven who found the trout,' and the poor little boy answered:
'Yes; it was I. My uncle deserted us all, and I had to get food. The frog lived in the lake, and when I called it, it came, and I set a trap for it and killed it; and by the help of its skin I dived into the lake likewise, and now I am great, for you have taken notice of me.'
'You shall marry me,' said the princess, and he married her, for he had ceased to be a poor little boy, and was grown to be a man. And whenever he went out to hunt or to fish, luck was with him, and he killed all that he sent his spear after, even whales and porpoises.
Time passed and they had two children, and still his hunting prospered and he grew rich. But one day he suddenlyfelt very tired and he told his wife, who feared greatly that some evil should befall him.
'Oh, cease hunting, I pray you!' said she. 'Surely you are rich enough'; but he would not listen, and hunted as much as ever.
Now most of the people who had left the town at the chief's bidding were dead, and the chief never doubted but that his daughter and the poor little boy and the old grandmother were dead also. But at length some of those who survived, wished to behold their homes once more, and they set out in four canoes to the old place. As they drew near, they saw many storehouses all full of spoils from the sea, and four whales laid up outside. Greatly were they amazed, but they got out of their canoes and went up to speak to the young man who stood there, and he spread food before them, and gave them gifts when in the evening they said farewell. They hastened to tell their chief all that they had seen and heard, and he was glad, and bade his people move back to the town and live in their old houses. So the next day the canoes put to sea again, and the poor little boy opened his storehouses and feasted the people, and they chose him for their chief.
'It grows harder every day to take off the frog blanket,' he said to his wife, and at his words she cried and would not take comfort. For now her husband could not rest contented at home, but hunted elks and bought slaves and was richer than any other chief had ever been before him. At length he told his uncle he wished to give a pot-latch or a great banquet, and he invited to it the Indians who dwelt many miles away. When they were all gathered together he called the people into the house, for in the centre of it he had placed his slaves and elk-skins and the other goods that he possessed.
'You shall distribute them,' he said to his uncle, and his uncle bade him put on his head the great copper he had knocked down from the tree, and the skin of the white bear which he had killed when he was still a poor little boy. Thus with the copper on his head and the bear-skin on his shoulders he walked to the pile of elk-skins in the middle of the house and sang, for this was part of the ceremony of giving him aname to show that he was grown up. And after the song was ended the chief said:
'Now I will call you by your name,' and the name that he gave him was Growing-up-like-one-who-has-a-grandmother, because his grandmother had always been so kind to him. After that the poor little boy took off the great copper and the bear-skin, and gave gifts to his guests, and they departed.
The chief and his wife were left alone and he put on his frog blanket, for he was going to catch seals for the people to eat. But his face was sad and he said to his wife:
'I shall return safely this time, but when next I put on that blanket I may not be able to take it off, and if I can't, perhaps I may never come home again. But I shall not forget you, and you will always find the seals and halibut and the salmon, which I shall catch for you, in front of the house.'
He did not leave them quite as soon as he expected. For several days his wife who was always watching for him, saw him walk up the beach; then one day she watched in vain, for though salmon and whales were there, the poor little boy was not. Each morning she took her two children down to the shore and they stood looking over the waves crying bitterly as the tide went out, because they knew he could not come till it was high again.
Food in plenty they had, and enough for the people of the town also, but the poor little boy never came home any more, for he had grown to be a frog, and was obliged to live in the sea.
[From the Bureau of American Ethnology: TsimshianTexts by Franz Boas.]
Have you ever thought what it would be like to have no arms, and be obliged to use your toes for everything? If not, try it on a wet day, and see how much you can manage to do. Yet, there are plenty of true stories of people born without hands, who have contrived by practice to teach their toes not only to supply the place ofordinaryfingers, but of very clever fingers, which is quite another matter! I myself once saw a young man in a Belgian gallery busily engaged in copying a picture, and as he had no arms he painted with his toes, seated on a high stool, to place him on the level he wanted. It was near the hour of closing when I happened to notice him, and after a few minutes during which I had watched him spellbound, he got down from his stool, kicked off one shoe, disclosing a stocking neatly cut across the toes, leaving them free. He then shut up his paint box, and picking up his brushes one by one dabbled them in a glass of water that stood near, and wiped them on a cloth, after which he put them carefully in their case, lying on a table.
At the sight of this, I forgot my manners and uttered a cry of amazement, which I think rather pleased the painter, for everyone likes to feel that he can do something better than his fellows. At all events he knew I did not mean to be rude, for he went to his box on the floor, opened it, took up the top card printed with his name, Charles le Félu, from a packet, and presented it to me. Then he put on his hat which was hanging on a peg, bowed and walked away, the sleeves of his coat being so fastened that he looked like a man with his hands in his pockets.
I kept that card till I was married, and obliged to throw away many of my treasures.
James Caulfield, about the beginning of the last century, collected many stories of handless people—who were 'handless' in a very different sense from whatwemean, when we use the word. He tells us of a German called Valerius, who was born when Charles II. was on the throne of England, and like my friend the painter, had no arms. This would have seemed a terrible calamity if it had come alone, but before he was out of his boyhood both his parents died, and left him penniless. Happily for Valerius, his mother had been a sensible woman, and insisted that her son should learn to make his toes as useful as fingers. Perched on his high stool, he did his copies like another child, and in later life, when he became famous, often wrote lines round his portraits. But much better than writing copies, he loved to beat a drum. Now beating a drum does not sound nearly so difficult as writing copies, and perhaps he was allowed to do it as a treat when he had said his lessons without a mistake, but with practice he was able to play cards and throw dice as well as any of his friends. He certainly always shaved himself when he grew to be a man, but it is rather hard to believe that in fencing he used his rapier, which he held between his big toe and the next, 'with as much skill as his adversary,' standing on his left leg the while.
The admiration of his playfellows at his cleverness filled him with pride, and Valerius was always trying fresh feats to show off to his audience.
When it became necessary for him to earn his own living, he was able to support himself in comfort, travelling from one country to another, and always drawing crowds who came to see this Eighth Wonder of the world—for so they thought him. In his leisure hours he practised some of his old tricks, or learnt new ones, and in 1698 he came to England where he stayed for seven years. Many are the tales told of him during this time. Sometimes he would raise a chair with his toes, and put it in a different place; sometimes with the help of his teeth he would build towers made of dice, or he would lie on his back and, taking a glass of water in his toes, would carry it to his mouth. He could fire a pistol with his toes whenseated on a stool, and using both feet he could discharge a musket. This must have been the hardest thing of any, for the musket of those times was a clumsy, heavy weapon, and it was not easy to keep your balance when it went off.
Then we have all of us heard of the famous Miss Biffin, who lived at the time when James Caulfield wrote his book. She went to the big fairs round London, and had a little booth all to herself. There, on payment of a small sum, visitors were admitted to see her sewing with a needle held by her toes, and sewing much more neatly than many of those who came to look at her would have been capable of doing with their fingers. And if they paid a little extra she would draw them, roughly, anything they wanted; or cut them out houses or dogs, or even likenesses of themselves on paper.
Miss Biffin, it is pleasant to think, thoroughly enjoyed her life, and, far from feeling that she was to be pitied because she had no hands, was quite convinced that she was much superior to anybody with two.
Perhaps the most wonderful of all the 'Handless Brigade' was a man called William Kingston, who was living in a village near Bristol in 1788. In that year a Mr. Walton happened to be staying in Bristol and was taken to see this marvel, of whom he writes an account to his friend John Wesley.
On the entrance of the two gentlemen into his house Kingston did not lose a moment in giving them their money's worth. He was having breakfast, and after inviting them to sit down, took up his cup between his big toe and the next, and drank off his tea without spilling a drop. After waiting till he had buttered his toast and eaten as much as he wanted, Mr. Walton then 'put half a sheet of paper upon the floor, with a pen and an ink-horn. Kingston threw off his shoes as he sat, took the ink-horn in the toes of his left foot, and held the pen in those of his right. He then wrote three lines as well as most ordinary writers, and as swiftly. He writes out,' continues Walton, 'his bills and other accounts. He then showed how he shaves with a razor in his toes, and how he combs his own hair. He can dress and undress himself,except buttoning his clothes,' which really does not sound half as difficult as many of his other performances. 'He feeds himself and can bring both his meat and his broth to his mouth, by holding the fork or spoon in his toes. He cleans his own shoes; can clean the knives, light the fire, and do almost every domestic business as well as any other man. He can make his hen-coops. He is a farmer by occupation; he can milk his cows with his toes, and cut his own hay, bind it up in bundles, and carry it about the field for his cattle. Last winter he had eight heifers constantly to fodder. The last summer he made all his own hay-ricks. He can do all the business of the hay-field (except mowing) as fast and as well with only his feet, as others can with rakes and forks; he goes to the field and catches his horse; he saddles and bridles him with his feet and toes. If he has a sheep among his flock that ails anything, he can separate it from the rest, drive it into a corner, and catch it when nobody else can; he then examines it, and applies a remedy to it. He is so strong in his teeth that he can lift ten pecks of beans with them; he can throw a great sledge-hammer with his feet as other men can with their hands. In a word, he can do nearly as much without, as other men can with, their hands.'
'He began the world with a hen and chicken; with the profit of these he purchased an ewe. The sale of these procured him a ragged colt and then a better; after this he raised a few sheep, and now occupies a small farm.'
It would be interesting to know how many of these astonishing feats Mr. Walton actually saw Kingston perform. But at any rate we put down his letter with the impression that to be bornwithfingers is a distinct disadvantage.
Once upon a time a town near the North Pacific Ocean suffered greatly from famine and many of the Indians who lived there died of hunger. It was terrible to see them sitting before their doors, too weak and listless to move, and waiting silently and hopelessly for death to come. But there was one boy who behaved quite differently from the rest of the tribe. For some reason or otherheseemed quite strong on his legs, and all day long he would go into the fields or the woods, with his bow and arrows slung to his back, hoping to bring back a supper for himself and his mother.
One morning when he was out as usual, he found a little animal that looked like a dog. It was such a round, funny little thing that he could not bear to kill it, so he put it under his warm blanket, and carried it home, and as it was very dirty from rolling about in the mud and snow, his mother washed it for him. When it was quite clean, the boy fetched some red paint which his uncle who had died of famine had used for smearing over their faces, and put it on the dog's head and legs so that he might always be able to trace it when they were hunting together.
The boy got up early next morning and took his dog into the woods and the hills. The little beast was very quick and sharp, and it was not long before the two got quite a number of grouse and birds of all sorts; and as soon as they had enough for that day and the next, they returned to the wigwam and invited their neighbours to supper with them.
A short time after, the boy was out on the hills wondering where the dog had gone, for, in spite of the red paint, he was to be seen nowhere. At length he stood still and put his earto the ground and listened with all his might, and that means a great deal, for Indian ears are much cleverer at hearing than European ones. Then he heard a whine which sounded as if it came from a long way off, so he jumped up at once and walked and walked till he reached a small hollow, where he found that the dog had killed one of the mountain sheep.
'Can it reallybea dog?' said the boy to himself. 'I don't know; I wish I did. But at any rate, it deserves to be treated like one,' and when the sheep was cooked, the dog—if it was a dog—was given all the fat part.
After this, never a day passed without the boy and the dog bringing home meat, and thanks to them the people began to grow fat again. But if the dog killed many sheep at once, the boy was always careful to give it first the best for itself.
Some weeks later the husband of the boy's sister came to him and said:
'Lend me your dog, it will help me greatly.' So the boy went and brought the dog from the little house he had made for it, and painted its head and its feet, and carried it to his brother-in-law.
'Give it the first thing that is killed as I always do,' observed the boy, but the man answered nothing, only put the dog in his blanket.
Now the brother-in-law was greedy and selfish and wanted to keep everything for himself; so after the dog had killed a whole flock of sheep in the fields, the man threw it a bit of the inside which nobody else would touch, exclaiming rudely:
'Here, take that! It is quite good enough for you.'
But the dog would not touch it either, and ran away to the mountains, yelping loudly.
The man had to bring back all the sheep himself, and it was evening before he reached the village. The first person he saw was the boy who was waiting about for him.
'Where is the dog?' asked he, and the man answered:
'It ran away from me.'
On hearing this the boy put no more questions, but he called his sister and said to her:
'Tell me the truth. What did your husband do to the dog? I did not want to let it go, because I guessed what would happen.'
And the wife answered:
'He threw the inside of a sheep to it, and that is why it ran off.'
When the boy heard this, he felt very sad, and turned to go into the mountains in search of the dog. After walking some time he found the marks of its paws, and smears of red paint on the grass. But all this time the boy never knew that the dog was really the son of the Wolf Chief and had been sent by his father to help him, and he did not guess that from the day that he painted red paint round its face and on its feet a wolf can be told far off by the red on its paws and round its mouth.
The marks led a long, long way, and at length they brought him to a lake, with a town on the opposite side of it, where people seemed to be playing some game, as the noise that they made reached all the way across.
'I must try if I can get over there,' he said, and as he spoke, he noticed a column of smoke coming right up from the ground under his feet, and a door flew open.
'Enter!' cried a voice, so he entered, and discovered that the voice belonged to an old woman, who was called 'Woman-always-wondering.'
'Grandchild, why are you here?' she asked, and he answered:
'I found a young dog who helped me to get food for the people, but it is lost and I am seeking it.'
'Its people live right across there,' replied the woman. 'It is the Wolf Chief's son, and that is his father's town where the noise comes from.'
'How can I get over the lake?' he said to himself, but the old woman guessed what he was thinking and replied:
'My little canoe is just below here.'
'It might turn over with me,' he thought, and again she answered him:
'Take it down to the shore and shake it before you get in,and it will soon become large. Then stretch yourself in the bottom, and, instead of paddling, wish with all your might to reach the town.'
The boy did as he was told, and by and bye he arrived on the other side of the lake. He shook the canoe a second time, and it shrunk into a mere toy-boat which he put in his pocket, and after that he went and watched some boys who were playing with a thing that was like a rainbow.
'Where is the chief's house?' he asked when he was tired of looking at their game.
'At the other end of the village,' they said, and he walked on till he reached a place where a large fire was burning, with people sitting round it. The chief was there too, and the boy saw his little wolf playing about near his father.
'There is a man here,' exclaimed the Wolf Chief. 'Vanish all of you!' and the wolf-people vanished instantly, all but the little wolf, who ran up to the boy and smelt him and knew him at once. As soon as the Wolf Chief beheld that, he said:
'I am your friend; fear nothing. I sent my son to help you because you were starving, and I am glad you have come in quest of him.' But after a pause, he added:
'Still, I do not think I will let him go back with you; but I will aid you in some other way,' and the boy did not guess that the reason the chief was so pleased to see him was because he had painted the little wolf. Yet, as he glanced at the little beast again, he observed with surprise that it did not look like a wolf any longer, but like a human being.
'Take out the fish-hawk's quill that is hanging on the wall, and if you should meet a bear point the quill straight at it, and it will fly out of your hand. I will also give you this,' and he opened a box and lifted out a second quill stuck in a blanket. 'If you lay this side on a sick person, it will cure him; and if you lay the other side on your enemy, it will kill him. Thus you can grow rich by healing sick people.'
So the boy and the Wolf Chief made friends, and they talked together a long time, and the boy put many questions about things he had seen in the town, which puzzled him.
'What was the toy the children were playing with?' he asked at last.
'That toy belongs to me,' answered the chief. 'If it appears to you in the evening it means bad weather, and if it appears in the morning it means fine weather. Then we know that we can go out on the lake. It is a good toy.'
'But,' continued he, 'you must depart now, and, before you leave eat this, for you have a long journey to make and you will need strength for it;' and he dropped something into the boy's mouth.
And the boy did not guess that he had been absent for two years, and thought it was only two nights.
Then he journeyed back to his own town, not a boy any more, but a man. Near the first house he met a bear and he held the quill straight towards it. Away it flew and hit the bear right in the heart; so there was good meat for hungry people. Further on, he passed a flock of sheep, and the quill slew them all and he drew it out from the heart of the last one. He cooked part of a sheep for himself and hid the rest where he knew he could find them. After that he entered the town.
It seemed strangely quiet. What had become of all his friends and of the children whom he had left behind him when he left to seek for his dog? He opened the door of a hut and peeped in: three or four bodies were stretched on the floor, their bones showing through their skin, dead of starvation; for after the boy had gone to the mountains there was no one to bring them food. He opened another door, and another and another; everywhere it was the same story. Then he remembered the gift of the Wolf Chief, and he drew the quill out of his blanket and laid one side of it against their bodies, so that they all came to life again, and once more the town was full of noise and gaiety.
'Now come and hunt with me,' he said; but he did not show them his quill lest he should lose it as he had lost the dog. And when they beheld a flock of mountain sheep grazing, he let fly the quill so quickly that nobody saw it go, neither did they see him pull out the quill and hide it in his blanket.After that they made a fire and all sat down to dine, and those who were not his friends gave him payment for the meat.
For the rest of his life the man journeyed from place to place, curing the sick and receiving payment from their kinsfolk. But those who had been dead for many years took a long while to get well, and their eyes were always set deep back in their heads, and had a look as if they had seen something.
[Tlingit Myths.]