Journeys Through Bookland V3

C >> Charles H. Sylvester >> Journeys Through Bookland V3

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"Sweet creature," said the spider,
"You're witty and you're wise;
How handsome are your gauzy wings,
How brilliant are your eyes.
I have a little looking-glass
Upon my parlor shelf;
If you'll step in one moment, dear,
You shall behold yourself."
"I thank you, gentle sir," she said,
"For what you're pleased to say,
And bidding you good morning, now,
I'll call another day."

The spider turned him round about,
And went into his den,
For well he knew the silly fly
Would soon be back again;
So he wove a subtle thread
In a little corner sly,
And set his table ready
To dine upon the fly.
He went out to his door again,
And merrily did sing,
"Come hither, hither, pretty fly,
With the pearl and silver wing;
Your robes are green and purple,
There's a crest upon your head;
Your eyes are like the diamond bright,
But mine are dull as lead."

Alas, alas! how very soon
This silly little fly,
Hearing his wily, flattering words,
Came slowly flitting by:
With buzzing wings she hung aloft,
Then near and nearer drew--
Thought only of her brilliant eyes
And green and purple hue;
Thought only of her crested head--
Poor foolish thing! At last
Up jumped the cunning spider,
And fiercely held her fast.

He dragged her up his winding stair,
Into his dismal den,
Within his little parlor--but
She ne'er came out again!
And now, dear little children
Who may this story read,
To idle, silly, flattering words,
I pray you, ne'er give heed:
Unto an evil counsellor
Close heart and ear and eye,
And learn a lesson from this tale
Of the spider and the fly.

A FAREWELL

By CHARLES KINGSLEY

My fairest child, I have no song to give you;
No lark could pipe to skies so dull and gray;
Yet, ere we part, one lesson I can leave you
For every day.

Be good, sweet maid, and let who will be clever;
Do noble things, not dream them, all day long:
And so make life, death, and that vast forever
One grand sweet song.

QUEEN ALICE

By LEWIS CARROLL

Alice threw herself down to rest on a lawn as soft as moss, with
little flower beds dotted about it here and there. "Oh, how glad I am
to get here! And what IS this on my head?" she exclaimed, as she put
her hands up to something very heavy, that fitted tight all round her
head.

"But how CAN it have got there without my knowing it?" she said to
herself, as she lifted it off, and set it on her lap to make out what
it could possibly be. It was a golden crown.

"Well, this IS grand!" said Alice. "I never expected I should be a
queen so soon--and I'll tell you what it is, your majesty," she went
on in a severe tone (she was always rather fond of scolding herself),
"it'll never do for you to be lolling about on the grass like that!
Queens have to be dignified, you know!"

So she got up and walked about--rather stiffly just at first, as she
was afraid that the crown might come off: but she comforted herself
with the thought that there was nobody to see her; "and if I really am
a queen," she said, as she sat down again, "I shall be able to manage
it quite well in time."

Everything was happening so oddly that she didn't feel a bit surprised
at finding the Red Queen and the White Queen sitting close to her, one
on each side: she would have liked very much to ask them how they came
there, but she feared it would not be quite civil. However, there
would be no harm, she thought, in asking if the game was over.

[Illustration: IT WAS A GOLDEN CROWN]

"Please, would you tell me--" she began, looking timidly at the Red
Queen.

"Speak when you're spoken to!" the Queen sharply interrupted her.

"But if everybody obeyed that rule," said Alice, who was always ready
for a little argument, "and if you only spoke when you were spoken to,
and the other person always waited for YOU to begin, you see nobody
would ever say anything, so--"

"Ridiculous!" cried the Queen. "Why, don't you see, child--" here she
broke off with a frown, and, after thinking for a minute, suddenly
changed the subject of the conversation. "What do you mean by 'If you
really are a queen?' What right have you to call yourself so? You
can't be a queen, you know, till you've passed the proper examination.
And the sooner we begin it, the better."

"I only said 'if'," poor Alice pleaded in a piteous tone.

The two queens looked at each other, and the Red Queen remarked, with
a little shudder, "She SAYS she only said 'if'--"

"But she said a great deal more than that," the White Queen moaned,
wringing her hands. "Oh, ever so much more than that."

"So you did, you know," the Red Queen said to Alice. "Always speak the
truth--think before you speak--and write it down afterward."

"I'm sure I didn't mean--" Alice was beginning, but the Red Queen
interrupted her impatiently.

"That's just what I complain of. You SHOULD have meant! What do you
suppose is the use of a child without any meaning? Even a joke should
have some meaning--and a child's more important than a joke, I hope.
You couldn't deny that, even if you tried with both hands."

"I don't deny things with my HANDS," Alice objected. "Nobody said you
did," said the Red Queen. "I said you couldn't if you tried."

"She's in that state of mind," said the White Queen, "that she wants
to deny SOMETHING--only she doesn't know what to deny."

"A nasty, vicious temper," the Red Queen remarked; and there was an
uncomfortable silence for a minute or two.

The Red Queen broke the silence by saying to the White Queen, "I
invite you to Alice's dinner party this afternoon."

The White Queen smiled feebly, and said, "And I invite YOU."

"I didn't know I was to have a party at all," said Alice; "but if
there is to be one, I think _I_ ought to invite the guests."

"We gave you the opportunity of doing it," the Red Queen remarked:
"but I dare say you've not had many lessons in manners yet?"

"Manners are not taught in lessons," said Alice. "Lessons teach you to
do sums, and things of that sort."

"Can you do addition?" the White Queen asked. "What's one and one and
one and one and one and one and one and one and one and one?"

"I don't know," said Alice. "I lost count."

"She can't do Addition," the Red Queen interrupted. "Can you do
Subtraction? Take nine from eight."

"Nine from eight I can't, you know," Alice replied very readily: "but--"

"She can't do Subtraction," said the White Queen. "Can you do
Division? Divide a loaf by a knife--what's the answer to that?"

"I suppose--" Alice was beginning, but the Red Queen answered for her.
"Bread-and-butter, of course. Try another Subtraction sum. Take a bone
from a dog: what remains?"

Alice considered. "The bone wouldn't remain, of course, if I took it--
and the dog wouldn't remain; it would come to bite me--and I'm sure
_I_ shouldn't remain!"

[Illustration: ALICE CONSIDERED]

"Then you think nothing would remain?" said the Red Queen.

"I think that's the answer."

"Wrong as usual," said the Red Queen; "the dog's temper would remain."

"But I don't see how--"

"Why, look here!" the Red Queen cried. "The dog would lose its temper,
wouldn't it?"

"Perhaps it would," Alice replied cautiously.

"Then if the dog went away, its temper would remain!" the Queen
exclaimed triumphantly.

Alice said, as gravely as she could, "They might go different ways."
But she couldn't help thinking to herself, "What nonsense we ARE
talking!"

"She can't do sums a BIT," the queens said together, with great
emphasis.

"Can YOU do sums?" Alice said, turning suddenly on the White Queen,
for she didn't like being found fault with so much.

The Queen gasped and shut her eyes. "I can do Addition," she said, "if
you give me time--but I can't do Subtraction under ANY circumstances!"

"Of course you know your A B C?" said the Red Queen.

"To be sure I do," said Alice.

"So do I," the White Queen whispered: "we'll often say it over
together, dear. And I'll tell you a secret--I can read words of one
letter! Isn't THAT grand? However, don't be discouraged. You'll come
to it in time."

Here the Red Queen began again. "Can you answer useful questions?" she
said. "How is bread made?"

"I know THAT," Alice cried eagerly. "You take some flour--"

"Where do you pick the flower?" the White Queen asked. "In a garden,
or in the hedges?"

"Well, it isn't PICKED at all," Alice explained: "it's GROUND--"

"How many acres of ground?" said the White Queen. "You mustn't leave
out so many things."

"Fan her head!" the Red Queen anxiously interrupted. "She'll be
feverish after so much thinking." So they set to work and fanned her
with bunches of leaves, till she had to beg them to leave off, it blew
her hair about so.

"She's all right again now," said the Red Queen. "Do you know
languages? What's the French for fiddle-de-dee?"

"Fiddle-de-dee's not English," Alice replied gravely.

"Who ever said it was?" said the Red Queen.

Alice thought she saw a way out of the difficulty this time. "If
you'll tell me what language 'fiddle-de-dee' is, I'll tell you the
French for it!" she exclaimed triumphantly.

But the Red Queen drew herself up rather stiffly, and said, "Queens
never make bargains."

"I wish queens never asked questions," Alice thought to herself.

"Don't let us quarrel," the White Queen said, in an anxious tone.
"What is the cause of lightning?"

"The cause of lightning," Alice said, very decidedly, for she felt
quite certain about this, "is the thunder--no, no!" she hastily
corrected herself. "I meant the other way."

"It's too late to correct it," said the Red Queen: "when you've once
said a thing, that fixes it, and you must take the consequences."

"Which reminds me," the White Queen said, looking down and nervously
clasping and unclasping her hands, "we had SUCH a thunderstorm last
Tuesday--I mean one of the last set of Tuesdays, you know."

Alice was puzzled. "In OUR country," she remarked, "there's only one
day at a time."

The Red Queen said, "That's a poor thin way of doing things. Now HERE,
we mostly have days and nights two or three at a time, and sometimes
in the winter we take as many as five nights together--for warmth,
you know."

"Are five nights warmer than one night, then?" Alice ventured to ask.

"Five times as warm, of course."

"But they should be five times as COLD, by the same rule--"

"Just so!" cried the Red Queen. "Five times as warm, AND five times as
cold--just as I'm five times as rich as you are, AND five times as
clever!"

Alice sighed and gave it up. "It's exactly like a riddle with no
answer!" she thought.

"Humpty Dumpty saw it too," the White Queen went on in a low voice,
more as if she were talking to herself. "He came to the door with a
corkscrew in his hand--"

"What did he want?" said the Red Queen.

"He said he WOULD come in," the White Queen went on, "because he was
looking for a hippopotamus. Now, as it happened, there wasn't such a
thing in the house, that morning."

"Is there generally?" Alice asked in an astonished tone.

"Well, only on Thursdays," said the Queen.

"I know what he came for," said Alice: "he wanted to punish the fish,
because--"

Here the White Queen began again. "It was SUCH a thunderstorm, you
can't think!" ("She NEVER could, you know," said the Red Queen.) "And
part of the roof came off, and ever so much thunder got in--and it
went rolling round the room in great lumps--and knocking over the
tables and things--till I was so frightened, I couldn't remember my
own name!"

Alice thought to herself, "I never should TRY to remember my name in
the middle of an accident! Where would be the use of it?" but she did
not say this aloud, for fear of hurting the poor Queen's feelings.

"Your Majesty must excuse her," the Red Queen said to Alice, taking
one of the White Queen's hands in her own, and gently stroking it:
"she means well, but she can't help saying foolish things, as a
general rule."

The White Queen looked timidly at Alice, who felt she OUGHT to say
something kind, but really couldn't think of anything at the moment.

"She never was really well brought up," the Red Queen went on: "but
it's amazing how good-tempered she is! Pat her on the head, and see
how pleased she'll be!" But this was more than Alice had courage to
do.

"A little kindness--and putting her hair in papers--would do wonders
with her--"

The White Queen gave a deep sigh, and laid her head on Alice's
shoulder. "I AM so sleepy!" she moaned.

"She's tired, poor thing!" said the Red Queen. "Smooth her hair--lend
her your nightcap--and sing her a soothing lullaby."

"I haven't got a nightcap with me," said Alice, as she tried to obey
the first direction: "and I don't know any soothing lullabies."

"I must do it myself, then," said the Red Queen, and she began:

"Hush-a-by, lady, in Alice's lap!
Till the feast's ready, we've time for a nap:
When the feast's over, we'll go to the ball--
Red Queen, and White Queen, and Alice, and all!"

"And now you know the words," she added, as she put her head down on
Alice's other shoulder, "just sing it through to ME; I'm getting
sleepy, too." In another moment both queens were fast asleep, and
snoring loud.

[Illustration: TWO QUEENS ASLEEP AT ONCE]

"What AM I to do?" exclaimed Alice, looking about in great perplexity,
as first one round head, and then the other, rolled down from her
shoulder, and lay like a heavy lump in her lap. "I don't think it EVER
happened before, that any one had to take care of two queens asleep at
once! No, not in all the history of England--it couldn't, you know,
because there never was more than one queen at a time. Do wake up, you
heavy things!" she went on in an impatient tone; but there was no
answer but a gentle snoring.

THE LEPRECAUN

By WILLIAM ALLINGHAM

NOTE.--The Leprecaun, or Shoemaker, is one of the solitary fairies of
Ireland. He is a little fellow who wears a red coat with seven buttons
in each row, and a cocked or pointed hat, on the point of which he
often spins round like a top. You may often see him under the hedge
mending shoes; where, if you are sharp enough, you may catch him and
make him give up the big crocks of gold, of which the little miser has
saved many and many. But you must be careful, for if after you have
seen him once you take your eyes off him for a single instant, he
vanishes into the air like a wreath of smoke.

Little cowboy, what have you heard,
Up on the lonely rath's green mound?
Only the plaintive yellow-bird
Singing in sultry fields around?
Chary, chary, chary, chee-e!
Only the grasshopper and the bee?
"Tip-tap, rip-rap,
Tick-a-tack-too!
Scarlet leather sewn together,
This will make a shoe.
Left, right, pull it tight,
Summer days are warm;
Underground in winter,
Laughing at the storm!"

Lay your ear close to the hill:
Do you not catch the tiny clamor,
Busy click of an elfin hammer,
Voice of the Leprecaun singing shrill
As he merrily plies his trade?
He's a span
And a quarter in height;
Get him in sight, hold him fast,
And you're a made
Man!

You watch your cattle the summer day,
Sup on potatoes, sleep in the hay;
How should you like to roll in your carriage
And look for a duchess's daughter in marriage?
Seize the shoemaker, so you may!
"Big boots a-hunting,
Sandals in the hall,
White for a wedding feast,
And pink for a ball:
This way, that way,
So we make a shoe,
Getting rich every stitch,
Tick-tack-too!"

Nine and ninety treasure crocks
This keen miser-fairy hath,
Hid in mountain, wood and rocks,
Ruin and round-tower, cave or rath,
And where the cormorants build;
From the times of old
Guarded by him;
Each of them filled
Full to the brim
With gold!

[Illustration: THIS WAY, THAT WAY, SO WE MAKE A SHOE]

I caught him at work one day myself,
In the castle ditch where the foxglove grows,
A wrinkled, wizened and bearded elf,
Spectacles stuck on the top of his nose,
Silver buckles to his hose,
Leather apron, shoe in his lap.
"Rip-rap, tip-tap,
Tick-tack-too!

A grig stepped upon my cap,
Away the moth flew.
Buskins for a fairy prince,
Brogues for his son,
Pay me well, pay me well,
When the job's done."

The rogue was mine beyond a doubt;
I stared at him, he stared at me!
"Servant, Sir!" "Humph," said he,
And pulled a snuff-box out;
He took a long pinch, looked better pleased,
The queer little Leprecaun,
Offered the box with a whimsical grace,
Pouf! he flung the dust in my face,
And, while I sneezed, was gone!

THE WALRUS AND THE CARPENTER

By LEWIS CARROLL

The sun was shining on the sea,
Shining with all his might:
He did his very best to make
The billows smooth and bright--
And this was odd, because it was
The middle of the night.

The moon was shining sulkily,
Because she thought the sun
Had got no business to be there
After the day was done--
"It's very rude of him," she said,
"To come and spoil the fun!"

The sea was wet as wet could be,
The sands were dry as dry.
You could not see a cloud, because
No cloud was in the sky;
No birds were flying overhead--
There were no birds to fly.

[Illustration: THE WALRUS AND THE CARPENTER]

The Walrus and the Carpenter
Were walking close at hand;
They wept like anything to see
Such quantities of sand:
"If this were only cleared away,"
They said, "it would be grand!"

"If seven maids with seven mops
Swept it for half a year,
Do you suppose," the Walrus said,
"That they could get it clear?"
"I doubt it," said the Carpenter,
And shed a bitter tear.

"Oysters, come and walk with us!"
The Walrus did beseech.
"A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk,
Along the briny beach;
We cannot do with more than four,
To give a hand to each."

The eldest Oyster looked at him,
But never a word he said:
The eldest Oyster winked his eye,
And shook his heavy head--
Meaning to say he did not choose
To leave the oyster-bed.

But four young Oysters hurried up,
All eager for the treat:
Their coats were brushed, their faces washed,
Their shoes were clean and neat--
And this was odd, because, you know,
They hadn't any feet.

Four others Oysters followed them,
And yet another four;
And thick and fast they came at last,
And more, and more, and more--
All hopping through the frothy waves,
And scrambling to the shore.

The Walrus and the Carpenter
Walked on a mile or so,
And then they rested on a rock,
Conveniently low:
And all the little Oysters stood
And waited in a row.

[Illustration: THE LITTLE OYSTERS WAITED]

"The time has come," the Walrus said,
"To talk of many things:
Of shoes--and ships--and sealing wax--
Of cabbages--and kings--
And why the sea is boiling hot--
And whether pigs have wings."

"But wait a bit," the Oysters cried,
"Before we have our chat;
For some of us are out of breath,
And all of us are fat!"
"No hurry!" said the Carpenter.
They thanked him much for that.

"A loaf of bread," the Walrus said,
"Is what we chiefly need:
Pepper and vinegar besides
Are very good indeed--
Now if you're ready, Oysters dear,
We can begin to feed."

"But not on us!" the Oysters cried,
Turning a little blue.
"After such kindness, that would be
A dismal thing to do!"
"The night is fine," the Walrus said,
"Do you admire the view?

"It was so kind of you to come!
And you are very nice!"
The Carpenter said nothing but
"Cut us another slice:
I wish you were not quite so deaf--
I've had to ask you twice!"

"It seems a shame," the Walrus said,
"To play them such a trick,
After we've brought them out so far,
And made them trot so quick!"
The Carpenter said nothing but
"The butter's spread too thick!"

[Illustration: I DEEPLY SYMPATHIZE]

"I weep for you," the Walrus said:
"I deeply sympathize."
With sobs and tears he sorted out
Those of the largest size,
Holding his pocket-handkerchief
Before his streaming eyes.

"Oh, Oysters," said the Carpenter,
"You've had a pleasant run!
Shall we be trotting home again?"
But answer came there none--
And this was scarcely odd, because
They'd eaten every one.

BETH GELERT

By WILLIAM E. SPENCER

The spearmen heard the bugle sound,
And cheerily smiled the morn;
And many a brach, and many a hound,
Obeyed Llewelyn's horn.

And still he blew a louder blast,
And gave a lustier cheer,
"Come, Gelert, come, wert never last
Llewelyn's horn to hear.

"O, where does faithful Gelert roam,
The flower of all his race;
So true, so brave,--a lamb at home,
A lion in the chase?"

In sooth, he was a peerless hound,
The gift of royal John;
But now no Gelert could be found
And all the chase rode on.

That day Llewelyn little loved
The chase of hart and hare;
And scant and small the booty proved,
For Gelert was not there.

Unpleased, Llewelyn homeward hied,
When, near the portal seat,
His truant Gelert he espied,
Bounding his lord to greet.

But when he gained his castle door,
Aghast the chieftain stood;
The hound all o'er was smeared with gore;
His lips, his fangs, ran blood.
Llewelyn gazed with fierce surprise;
Unused such looks to meet,
His favorite checked his joyful guise,
And crouched, and licked his feet.

[Illustration: THE DEATH OF GELERT]

Onward, in haste, Llewelyn passed,
And on went Gelert, too;
And still, where'er his eyes he cast,
Fresh blood-gouts shocked his view.

O'erturned his infant's bed he found,
With blood-stained covert rent;
And all around the walls and ground
With recent blood besprent.

He called his child,--no voice replied,--
He searched with terror wild;
Blood, blood he found on every side,
But nowhere found his child.

"Hell-hound! my child's by thee devoured,"
The frantic father cried;
And to the hilt his vengeful sword
He plunged in Gelert's side.

Aroused by Gelert's dying yell,
Some slumberer wakened nigh;
What words the parent's joy could tell
To hear his infant's cry!

Concealed beneath a tumbled heap
His hurried search had missed,
All glowing from his rosy sleep,
The cherub boy he kissed.

Nor scathe had he, nor harm, nor dread,
But, the same couch beneath,
Lay a gaunt wolf, all torn and dead,
Tremendous still in death.

Ah, what was then Llewelyn's pain!
For now the truth was clear;
His gallant hound the wolf had slain
To save Llewelyn's heir.

ROBINSON CRUSOE

INTRODUCTORY NOTE

The author of Robinson Crusoe, Daniel Defoe, lived in England from
1661 to 1731. He was a brave, liberty-loving man who was always in
opposition to the tyranny of the government, and was many times
punished for his independent speech and lively interest in the wrongs
of his fellows.

We do not know positively what inspired him to write the story, or
where he got his facts. It has been generally believed that his tale
was founded on The Life and Adventures of Alexander Selkirk, a book
which was published about seven years before Robinson Crusoe appeared,
in 1719. Selkirk was a buccaneer on a ship cruising in the South
Atlantic. He quarreled violently with his captain, and at his own
request was put ashore alone on the island of Juan Fernandez. Here he
lived for four years and four months, and was then rescued by a
privateer. The adventures of Selkirk have so little in common with
those of Robinson Crusoe that it is doubtful whether Defoe had the
former in mind at all. Moreover, there had been published in England
some twenty years before Defoe wrote Robinson Crusoe the story of
Peter Serrano, who was shipwrecked and lived for several years on an
island near the mouth of the Orinoco.

This is the scene of Robinson Crusoe, and it is probable that Defoe
was influenced by Serrano's story.

The title-page of the first edition is as follows:

"The Life and Strange Surprizing Adventures of Robinson Crusoe, of
York, Mariner; Who lived Eight and Twenty Years, all alone in an un-
inhabited Island on the Coast of America, near the Mouth of the Great
River Oroonoque; Having been cast on Shore by Shipwreck, wherein all
the Men perished but himself. With an Account how he was at last as
strangely delivered by Pyrates. Written by Himself. London: Printed
for W. Taylor at the Ship in Pater-Noster-Row. MDCCXIX"

The story as Defoe tells it is vividly written in what seems to us now
rather quaint phraseology, but everything appears so simple and so
real that it is hard to believe that the man who wrote the story did
not really have the experiences he relates. Defoe did not intend to
write a book for children, and Robinson Crusoe is really the first
great English story, and the forerunner of our modern novels. The
book, however, became very popular, and the children seized upon it at
once and made it their own particular story. Countless editions of it
have been printed, and it has been translated into almost every modern
language. Besides this, there have been dozens of English versions of
Robinson Crusoe, from simple little tales in words of one syllable, to
finer editions in which Defoe's language has been modernized and a
really new story created. However, there is nothing so charming and so
real as Crusoe's own account of himself, and the selections which
follow are taken from the larger book just about as they were written
by Defoe.

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