Chapter XII: Front Matter (12)

The cook now used it as a pin to fasten her scarf.

“Ho, ho! So I’m a scarf-pin now! I always knew I should make my way in the world. Worth always tells in the end,” said the Needle. And it chuckled to itself, although you could not see it do so. A darning-needle never lets you see it laugh.

This one sat bolt upright and gazed in all directions, just as if it were riding in a state carriage.

“Might I be allowed to inquire if you are made of gold?” it asked of its neighbor—a pin. “You have a very bright look, and a head of your own, though it is ridiculously small. You must do your best to grow a bit. Of course, it is not every one who is decorated with a ball of red sealing-wax!”

The Darning-needle drew itself up so proudly as it said this, that it overbalanced and fell out of the scarf into the sink, which the cook at that moment was rinsing down.

“Now I am going to see the world,” thought the Needle. “I hope I shall not lose myself.” But lose itself it did. And as it was washed through a long, greasy pipe and carried away into the gutter, it said: “I am not coarse and strong enough to hold my own in this world, but I know who and what I am, and that’s a great comfort.”

And the Darning-needle kept its proud bearing, and did not lose its bright way of looking at things, although all sorts of objects passed over it—chips of wood, and pieces of straw, and old newspaper.

“Look how they sail!” it said. “But they little know what lies beneath them. I stick fast here, and there goes a chip, a mere chip, looking as if it thought it was all the world. And there’s a straw floating by, too. How it whirls round and round; it had better take care lest it run against a stone. Ah! and now there is a piece of newspaper. Giving itself such airs, too! as if all that was printed on it was not forgotten long ago. I have to sit still, patiently and alone; but I know who I am, and that I shall continue still to be, and that is a great comfort.”

One day a piece of glass bottle lay beside the Darning-needle, and because it glittered so splendidly the needle thought it must certainly be a diamond; so it spoke and introduced itself.

“Good morning,” it said. “I am a scarf-pin. I believe I have the pleasure of speaking to a diamond?”

“Yes, I am a member of that family, I believe,” was the answer.

And thus they both thought each other very superior, and spoke together of the vanity and pride of the world.

“I lived in a girl’s work-box,” the Darning-needle said. “She was a cook, and had five fingers on each hand; but I never saw anything so conceited as those fingers in my life! And after all is said and done, they were only there to take me out and put me back into the box again.”

“Were they very aristocratic, then?” the piece of glass asked.

“Aristocratic? No; but very proud. They were brothers, all born fingers, and they kept to themselves. They were various heights, too. The first—named the Thumb—was short and broad, and held himself rather aloof from the others. He only had one joint in his back, so could only make one bow; but he said a man could not be a soldier unless he possessed one like him on his hand. The second was called Sweet-tooth, and was used to put into sweet and sour dishes, to point to the sky and the stars, and to make the down-strokes of the pen when the fingers wrote a letter. Long-one was the third, and could look over all the heads of the others. Ringold, the fourth, wore a golden belt round his waist; and the last one of all was Playboy, who never did a stroke of work, and was proud of it. But I had to leave them,” said the Needle; “they could do nothing but boast.”

“And now here we sit and glitter,” murmured the piece of glass.

But at that moment the water came rushing along the gutter and carried off the piece of glass in its arms.

“He has received promotion already,” said the Darning-needle. “It is my pride that stands in my way. I am so very fine, and I am quite right to keep myself to myself,” and it sat up erect and proud, and was filled with great thoughts. “I surely must be the child of some sunbeam,” it thought. “I am so very fine, and the sunbeams always seem to me to be trying to find me beneath the water. Perhaps I am too slender for my mother to be able to see me. I’m sure if I had my old eye that was broken off I should cry. But I won’t; it’s not well-bred to cry.”

Then one day some ragamuffins came poking in the gutter to find farthings and old nails, and other such precious things. It was very muddy and dirty, but they only enjoyed it the better for that.

“Ugh!” cried one, as the Darning-needle ran into his finger. “Ugh! you great ugly fellow!”

“I am a miss, and not a fellow!” shrieked the Darning-needle; but no one heard it.

The ball of sealing-wax had fallen off, and the needle had turned quite black, but it felt more pleased with itself than ever, for one looks so much slimmer in black.

“Here, let us stick it into this egg-shell!” they called, and the Darning-needle was fixed firmly.

“These white walls must be very becoming to me,” the Darning-needle thought. “I shall show up well against them, and shall certainly be seen at last. I hope I shall not become seasick or break.”

But the Darning-needle became neither seasick, nor did it break. A steel stomach is a good preventive against seasickness; and it did not forget that it was something better than a mere man.

“Really, the finer one is, the more one can bear,” it thought.

“C-r-r-rack!” groaned the egg-shell, as the wheels of a cart passed over it.

“Gracious heavens! how it presses!” gasped the Darning-needle. “I do believe I am going to be seasick, after all. I shall break!”

But, although the heavy cart rolled over it, it did not break, only lay stretched full length in the mud, and there it may stay, for there is no more of its story worth listening to.

HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN.

_Master of All Masters_

A girl once went to the fair to hire herself for a servant. At last a funny-looking old gentleman engaged her, and took her home to his house. When she got there, he told her that he had something to teach her, for that in his house he had his own names for things.

He said to her: “What will you call me?”

“Master or mister, or whatever you please, sir,” says she.

He said: “You must call me ‘Master of all Masters.’ And what would you call this?” pointing to his bed.

“Bed or couch, or whatever you please, sir.”

“No, that’s my ‘barnacle.’ And what do you call these?” said he, pointing to his pantaloons.

“Breeches or trousers, or whatever you please, sir.”

“You must call them ‘squibs and crackers.’ And what would you call her?” pointing to the cat.

“Cat or kit, or whatever you please, sir.”

“You must call her ‘white-faced simminy.’ And this, now,” showing the fire, “what would you call this?”

“Fire or flame, or whatever you please, sir.”

“You must call it ‘hot cockalorum.’ And what, this?” he went on, pointing to the water.

“Water or wet, or whatever you please, sir.”

“No, ‘pondalorum’ is its name. And what do you call all this?” asked he, as he pointed to the house.

“House or cottage, or whatever you please, sir.”

“You must call it ‘high topper mountain.’”

That very night the servant woke her master up in a fright and said: “Master of all Masters, get out of your barnacle and put on your squibs and crackers. For white-faced simminy has got a spark of hot cockalorum on its tail, and unless you get some pondalorum, high topper mountain will be all on hot cockalorum.” ... That’s all.

_Belling the Cat_

Once upon a time the mice sat in council and talked of how they might outwit their enemy, the Cat. But good advice was scarce, and in vain the president called upon all the most experienced mice present to find a way.

At last a very young mouse held up two fingers and asked to be allowed to speak, and as soon as he could get permission he said:

“I’ve been thinking for a long time why the Cat is such a dangerous enemy. Now, it’s not so much because of her quickness, though people make so much fuss about that. If we could only _notice_ her in time, I’ve no doubt we’re nimble enough to jump into our holes before she could do us any harm. It’s in her velvet paws, there’s where she hides her cruel claws till she gets us in her clutches—that’s where her power lies. With those paws she can tread so lightly that we can’t hear her coming. And so, while _we_ are still dancing heedlessly about the place, she creeps close up, and before we know where we are she pounces down on us and has us in her clutches. Well, then, it’s my opinion we ought to hang a bell round her neck to warn us of her coming while there’s yet time.”

Every one applauded this proposal, and the council decided that it should be carried out.

Now the question to be settled was, who should undertake to fasten the bell round the Cat’s neck?

The president declared that no one could be better fitted for the task than he who had given such excellent advice.

But at that the young mouse became quite confused and stammered an excuse. He was too young for the deed, he said. He didn’t know the Cat well enough. His grandfather, who knew her better, would be more suited to the job.

But the grandfather declared that just because he knew the Cat very well he would take good care not to attempt such a task.

And the long and the short of it was that no other mouse would undertake the duty; and so this clever proposal was never carried out, and the Cat remained mistress of the situation.

_The Magpie and her Children_

Said a Magpie to her children: “It’s high time you learned to look for your own food; it is indeed.”

And with that she turned the whole lot of them out of their nest and took them into the fields.

But the Magpie’s children didn’t care about that.

“We’d rather go back to our nest!” they cried. “It’s so comfortable to have you bringing our food to us in your beak!”

“I dare say!” said their mother. “But you’re big enough to feed yourselves. I was turned out of the nest when I was much younger, I can tell you that!”

“But people will kill us with their bows and arrows,” said the young magpies.

“No fear of that!” replied their mother. “People can’t shoot without taking aim, and that takes time. When you see them raising their bows to their faces, ready to draw, you must just fly away!”

“We might do that,” said the children; “but if some one were to throw a stone at us, he wouldn’t have to take aim.”

“Well, you’ll see him stooping down to pick up the stone,” said the old Magpie.

“But supposing he carries a stone in his hand, ready?”

“Why, if you’re sharp enough to think of that,” said their mother, “you’re sharp enough to take care of yourselves!”

And with that she flew away and left them.

_The Cock, the Cuckoo, and the Black-cock_

Once upon a time the Cock, the Cuckoo, and the Black-cock bought a cow between them. But when they came to share it, and couldn’t agree which should buy the others out, they settled among them that he who woke first in the morning should have the cow.

So the Cock woke first.

“Now the cow’s mine!
Now the cow’s mine!
Hurrah! Hurrah!”

he crew, and so pleased was he that in his excitement he awoke the Cuckoo.

“Half cow!
Half cow!”

sang the Cuckoo, and woke up the Black-cock.

“A like share, a like share;
Dear friends, that’s only fair;
Saw see, see saw!”

That’s what the Black-cock said.

And now can you tell me which of them ought to have the cow?

_The Race Between Hare and Hedgehog_

It was once upon a time on a Saturday morning in autumn, while the barley-fields were still in bloom.

The sun was shining, the morning wind was blowing over the stubble, the larks were singing high in the air, the bees were buzzing in the barley blossoms, and the people were going blithely about their day’s work; in short, all the world was happy, and the Hedgehog, too.

The Hedgehog stood in front of his door with folded arms, looked at the weather, and hummed a tune as only a hedgehog can hum on a Saturday morning.

Now, as he stood there humming, he thought to himself all at once that, while his wife was washing and dressing the children, he might as well go for a little walk in the fields and see how his turnips were getting on.

The turnips grew near his house, and he and his family ate as many of them as ever they wanted, and so he looked upon them quite naturally as his property.

Well, the Hedgehog slammed his door and started for the turnip-field. He hadn’t got very far, and was just sauntering round the brier-bush that stood outside the field, when he met the Hare, who was out on the same errand—namely, to look at his cabbages.

When the Hedgehog caught sight of the Hare, he gave him a pleasant “Good morning.”

But the Hare, who was a very aristocratic person in his own way, and very high and mighty in his manner, didn’t answer the Hedgehog’s greeting, but said, with a nasty sneer:

“What are you running about the fields for so early in the morning?”

“I’m out walking,” said the Hedgehog.

“Walking?” grinned the Hare. “I should have thought you could use your legs for something better!”

This remark annoyed the Hedgehog, for, though he was a good-natured fellow enough, he was touchy on the subject of his legs, which were, by nature, bandy.

“I suppose,” he said tartly, “you think your legs are better than mine?”

“That I do,” said the Hare.

“It remains to be seen,” said the Hedgehog. “I bet you that if we two were to run a race I should outstrip you.”

“Absurd!” cried the Hare. “You with your crooked legs! But if you’re so anxious to try, I’ve no objection. What do you wager?”

“A golden guinea,” said the Hedgehog.

“Done!” said the Hare. “We’ll start right away!”

“Oh, don’t be in such a hurry,” said the Hedgehog. “I haven’t had my breakfast yet, and I feel a bit faint. I’ll come back here in an hour.”

So away he trotted, for the Hare made no objection.

Then he thought to himself:

“The Hare thinks a lot of his long legs, but I’ll get the better of him all the same. For all his haughty ways, he’s not so very clever, and I’ll make him pay; see if I don’t.”

As soon as he got home, he said to his wife:

“Quick! go and get dressed. You must come out with me.”

“What’s the matter?” said his wife.

“I’ve wagered the Hare a golden guinea. I’m to run a race with him, and I want you to be there.”

“Good gracious me!” cried the Hedgehog’s wife. “Have you lost your senses? How can you think of racing the Hare?”

“Don’t be so quick with your words, woman,” said the Hedgehog. “That’s my affair; you mustn’t meddle with what you don’t understand. Look sharp; put on your things, and come along.”

What was the wife to do? She had to obey, whether she wanted to or not.

On the way to the field, the Hedgehog said:

“Now, listen to what I’m going to tell you. In that plowed field over there we’re to run our race. The Hare will run in one furrow, and I in the other. We begin at the top. Now, all you’ve got to do is to stand at the other end of my furrow, and directly the Hare arrives, you call out to him:

“‘Here I am already!’”

With that they reached the field. The Hedgehog told his wife where to stand, and went on to the other end.

The Hare was there waiting for him.

“Shall we start?” asked the Hare.

“Right,” said the Hedgehog.

“Now then!”

Each took up his place.

The Hare counted:

“One, two, three!”

And away he went like the wind.

But the Hedgehog took about three paces, then he went back, ducked down in his furrow, and stood there as comfortably as you please, and laughing as if he would split his sides.

Now, the moment the Hare came rushing up to the other end, the Hedgehog’s wife called out to him:

“Here I am already!”

The Hare was quite taken aback, for he made sure it was the Hedgehog himself who was sitting there calling to him, since, as every one knows, a hedgehog’s wife looks exactly like her husband.

“There’s something not quite right here,” said the Hare. “We must run again back to the starting-point.”

And away he flew like the wind. But the Hedgehog’s wife never moved.

When the Hare got to the other end, the Hedgehog called out:

“Here I am already!”

But the Hare, quite beside himself with jealousy, shouted:

“We must run again!”

“Right!” said the Hedgehog. “As often as you like.”

And so the Hare went on, running backward and forward seventy-three times, and every time the Hedgehog got the better of him. Every time the Hare arrived at one end or the other, the Hedgehog or his wife called out:

“Here I am already!”

But the seventy-fourth time the Hare dropped down dead tired before he got half-way. So the Hedgehog took his golden guinea, and he and his wife went home very well pleased with themselves. And so my tale is finished.

_Bruno’s Story_

[_From “Sylvie and Bruno.”_]

“Once there were a mouse and a crocodile and a man and a goat and a lion,” said Bruno.

“And the mouse found a shoe, and it thought it were a mouse-trap. So it got right in, and it stayed in ever so long.”

“Why did it stay in?”

“‘Cause it thought it couldn’t get out again,” Bruno explained. “It were a clever mouse. It knew it couldn’t get out of traps.”

“But why did it go in, then?”

“No matter why!” said Bruno decisively; “and it jamp, and it jamp, and at last it got right out again. And it looked at the mark in the shoe. And the man’s name were in it. So it knew it wasn’t its own shoe.

So the mouse gave the man his shoe. And the man were welly glad, ‘cause he hadn’t got but one shoe, and he were hopping to get the other.

And the man took the goat out of the sack.... No, I know oo hasn’t heard of the sack before, and oo won’t again.... And he said to the goat: ‘Oo will walk about here till I comes back.’ And he went and he tumbled into a deep hole. And the goat walked round and round. And it walked under the tree. And it wug its tail. And it looked up in the tree. And it sang a sad little song. Oo never heard such a sad little song!

It singed it right froo. I _sawed_ it singing with its long beard.

And when it had singed all the song, it ran away—for to get along to look for the man, oo know. And the crocodile got along after it—for to bite it, oo know. And the mouse got along after the crocodile.”

“Wasn’t the crocodile running?”

“He wasn’t running,” said Bruno, “and he wasn’t crawling. He went struggling along like a portmanteau. And he held his chin ever so high in the air——”

“What did he do that for?”

“‘Cause he hadn’t got a toofache!” said Bruno. “Can’t oo make out _nuffin_ wizout I ‘splain it? Why, if he’d had a toofache, a course he’d have held his head down—like this—and he’d have put a lot of warm blankets round it!”

“Did he have any blankets?”

“Course he had blankets,” said Bruno. “Does oo think crocodiles goes walks wisout blankets? And he frowned with his eyebrows. And the goat was welly flightened at his eyebrows.”

“I’d never be afraid of eyebrows.”

“I should think oo _would_, though, if they’d got a crocodile fastened to them, like these had!”

And so the man jamp, and he jamp, and at last he got right out of the hole.

And he runned away—for to look for the goat, oo know. And he heard the lion grunting.

And its mouth were like a large cupboard. And it had plenty of room in its mouth. And the lion runned after the man—for to eat him, oo know. And the mouse runned after the lion.

“And first he caught the crocodile, and then he didn’t catch the lion. And when he’d caught the crocodile, what does oo think he did—‘cause he’d got pincers in his pocket? Why, he wrenched out that crocodile’s toof!”

“Which tooth?”

“The toof he were going to bite the goat with, a course!”

“And what became of the man?”

“Well, the lion springed at him. But it came so slow, it were three weeks in the air——”

“Did the man wait for it all that time?”

“Course he didn’t. He sold his house, and he packed up his things, while the lion were coming. And he went and he lived in another town. So the lion ate the wrong man.”

LEWIS CARROLL.

_The Bluebottle Who Went Courting_

A gay young Bluebottle went out courting.

And first he flew into the king’s palace to woo the king’s daughter.

Now, she was the most beautiful princess in all the world, and had a thousand suitors at her feet.

So the Bluebottle came and settled on her hand, and sang:

“Zum, zum, zoo,
I want to marry you!”

But the princess didn’t understand the song. She only saw a great bluebottle fly, and she tried to flick it off her hand. But the Bluebottle sat fast. Then the princess cried out:

“Here’s a great horrid fly on my hand, and it won’t move! Quick! some one take it away!”

At that, you may be sure, all the suitors came running up, and made grabs at the Bluebottle; and the cleverest of them caught him between his finger and thumb and nearly crushed the life out of him. But he managed to wriggle free, and in his flight he flew at the king himself and settled right on the tip of the royal nose.

Then the king gave a terrific snort and hit the Bluebottle such a blow that if it hadn’t just missed him he would certainly have been killed.

By this time, I can tell you, the Bluebottle was in such a state that he didn’t know whether he was on his head or his heels. So he buzzed round and round the room, and was chased from one courtier to the other, and dashed his wings against the window-panes, and at last the king threw his scepter at him, and the scepter hit the fattest duchess in the room, and bounded off and struck the Bluebottle on the head.

You may fancy how that confused the poor thing! And so he flew into the fireplace, and got his left wing scorched, and he only just managed to crawl up the chimney by the skin of his teeth.

But a maiden bluebottle, who was distantly related to his family, nursed his wing for him, and so pretty soon he was as gay as ever. Then he said:

“Very well, if I can’t have the princess, I’ll have the next best thing.”

And so he flew into the king’s stable and sat himself down right on the back of the princess’s favorite mare.

“Zum, zum, zoo,
I want to marry you!”

he hummed.

But the mare took not the least notice of his song. She only shifted her feet irritably, for the Bluebottle tickled her.

“Zum, zum, zoo,
I want to marry you!”

repeated the Bluebottle, quite boldly.

At that the mare gave a flick of her tail and hit the Bluebottle slap! bang! right in the middle of his bright azure waistcoat, so that he was sent spinning in among the straw that littered the floor.

So there he lay, buzzing mournfully, till the maiden bluebottle came along and rubbed him all over, and put him on his feet again.

And pretty soon he was gayer than ever, and thought how he would go courting once more.

“Better stick to your own station,” said his lady friend.

But he only tossed his head and sniffed scornfully.

And then he put on a brand-new waistcoat and flew into the king’s kitchen, where the princess’s favorite cat lay purring on the hearth.

And the Bluebottle lost no time at all, but crept straight into the cat’s right ear and sang his song:

“Zum, zum, zoo,
I want to marry you!”

Now, the cat had just been dreaming the most delicious dream about the fattest mouse you can think of, and the buzzing in her ear just woke her up in the most exciting part.

And so, you may guess, she wasn’t in the best of tempers.

Whether she heard the Bluebottle’s proposal of marriage or not, I really can’t say. If she did, you may be sure it didn’t please her, for she just made a snatch with her paw and grabbed him by the leg.

Now, it would have been all up with him if the maiden relative hadn’t flown up in the very nick of time and tickled the cat’s nose.

Very well, that made the cat sneeze so violently that she let go of the Bluebottle’s leg, and so he flew away. But his leg was broken; and the doctor came every day for a week, and then he sent in his bill. And the maiden friend brought all her savings rolled up in an old stocking of her mother’s. And so the Bluebottle paid the doctor, and there was an end of that.

Now, would you believe it, the Bluebottle was so young and giddy that his leg was scarcely well before he began to wonder where he should go courting next.

“When there are so many old maids in the world,” said he, “it’s a bachelor’s duty to look round for a wife. I do it out of charity.”

“Charity begins at home,” said his lady friend, and blushed in a modest way.

But the Bluebottle was not the kind of person to take a hint. So he just put on another new waistcoat, and away he flew into the woods.

And there a fine young lady woodpecker was hopping about digging for worms in a ladylike manner.

“Now, here is a person after my own heart,” said the Bluebottle. “She doesn’t wait for us men to bring her food; she just helps herself. I might do worse than marry her.”

And without a minute’s hesitation he began to buzz round and round the woodpecker, singing his old song:

“Zum, zum, zoo,
I want to marry you!”

When the woodpecker caught sight of him, she cocked her tail in a knowing way.

“Change of food is as good as change of air,” said she, and gave a peck that nearly finished the Bluebottle there and then, and tore his right wing from end to end.

So there he was, sprawling on his back with his legs curled up in agony, for a torn wing is no trifle. And now the woodpecker would certainly have gobbled him up; but just then the faithful maiden friend, who had followed the Bluebottle because he was bound to get into mischief, hurried up. When she saw the state of things, she didn’t stop twice to think, but took a dead leaf and dropped it right over the Bluebottle.

Now, when the woodpecker saw the maiden Bluebottle, she took her for the bachelor, and gave another peck. But the maiden flew away and hid behind a fern, and so the woodpecker went back to her worms.

“Oh! Oh! I’m dead! I’m dead!” groaned the Bluebottle under the leaf.

“Nonsense!” said his lady friend. “Rubbish doesn’t die so easily!”

You see, she was severe because her pride had been hurt.

“Oh, dear, kind friend, don’t fly away and leave me!” begged the Bluebottle meekly.

“You’ve flown away and left me often enough,” said the lady friend.

“I’ll never do it again as long as I live!” cried he.

“You couldn’t if you wanted to,” said she, and stroked the broken wing.

“Oh, why wasn’t I content with a bluebottle bride?” groaned he.

“No lady bluebottle will look at you now,” said she, “for you’ll always fly lame as long as you live.”

“Oh, won’t you take pity on me?” asked the poor Bluebottle, who felt thoroughly humble by this time.

Then his lady friend put her own strong wing under his broken one.

“I’ll marry you—out of charity,” she said, and flew away with him.

_How Two Beetles Took Lodgings_

Once upon a time there was a worthy set of ants, who lived together as happily as possible in their little town at the foot of a fine old oak-tree.

They were honest, peaceable folk, and always did as the three queen ants who ruled over them told them to do.

The young men stayed quietly at home until it was time for them to get married, and the young ladies, who had nothing else to do, did the same.

As for the working people—But here’s a curious state of things! You’ll never find a working “man” in an ant city as long as you live, for all the workers are females, even the soldiers, you may take my word for that!

Well, as for these, they were at it morning, noon, and night, digging and building and fetching food for the whole town, looking after the eggs—of which there were so many you could never have counted them—and seeing that all the baby ants were quite happy and comfortable.

Now, things would have gone on very well indeed if other people had only left these worthy ants alone. But they did not—and this is where my story really begins.

One fine day a set of ants belonging to quite another tribe came to the forest, and built themselves a town not far from the first.

And these ants—it grieves me to write it—were far from peaceful and honest like their neighbors. To tell the truth, they were nothing more nor less than robbers.

They had not been very long in the place before their soldiers—all womenfolk, too!—made a raid on the town of the mild and harmless ants, and carried off all the girl babies they could lay hands on. And the moment the children were old enough to work, they were made into slaves, and had to do all the roughest and hardest work.

Well, you may guess there was sorrow in the town of the peaceful ants. They were too weak to fight their foes, and so they just had to sit down and bear it as best they could.

Now, what happened once, happened again, and yet again, till at last the harmless ants made up their minds to move and build themselves a new city in another part of the forest.

And so they did. But it was all of no use, for the robbers followed them, and then the same thing happened all over again. So soon as there was a fine, fat, promising bunch of girl babies in the town, the robbers came and carried them into slavery.

One misfortune followed fast upon another. Not long after the ants had moved into their new town, a beetle and his wife came stalking in, and demanded lodgings in the queen’s palace.

They were smartly dressed in blue and green coats of the latest cut, but they carried no baggage except a tooth-brush, that stuck out of the Beetle’s wife’s pocket. This was suspicious, and they looked so hungry and thirsty, into the bargain, that it was not to be wondered at that the poor queen ant pulled a long face.

“We’re traveling for pleasure,” said the Beetle’s wife, “and we shall have much pleasure in staying here as long as we like.”

With that she walked straight up to the best bedroom, said she hoped the sheets were aired, and went to bed, while her husband talked pleasantly with the three queens, and ate three dozen new-laid ants’ eggs for his supper.

The unhappy queens soon saw what kind of visitors they had got. The Beetles made themselves at home everywhere—in the palace and out of it—and called for whatever they wanted. The working ants had to wait on them hand and foot. There was the Beetle’s shaving water to be got first thing in the morning, and the Beetle’s wife’s cup of milk fresh from the cow. For ants, you must know, keep their cows, just as human beings do, though the milk of the ant cow is more like sugar water than anything else we have.

Then there never was any one who could do with so many meals in the course of a single day as that Beetle and his wife. They just ate and drank from morning to night, and it was all the ants could do to keep the palace larder stocked.

All the choicest morsels, the finest seeds and salads the workers could bring fell to the Beetles’ share, while the queens got what was left.

There was no peace and quiet in the town. The Beetles pried into every hole and corner, spread themselves in everybody’s parlor, and paraded the streets singing and whistling when quiet folks wanted to rest.

But, what was worst of all, they showed never a sign of moving on.

“I thought you said you were traveling,” the bravest of the queens ventured to remark at last.

“Why, so we were!” said the Beetles. “But one must settle down some time or other, and your air really suits us very well.”

“Did you hear that?” whispered one young working ant to another.

The two had come to the palace with a pitcher of milk just in time to listen to the conversation.

“They’ll never leave us,” said the second ant.

“Not unless some one takes steps,” returned the first ant.

“And, pray, whose steps, and why?” asked the second.

“You always were stupid,” said the first one, and gave her waist a twitch—which is a way ants have when they are put out. “Now, if some one were to take my advice,” she went on, “but there’s nobody in all the town with two pennyworth of spirit. Nobody would take my advice.”

“I suppose you couldn’t take it yourself?” asked the second ant, who really was not quite as stupid as people thought.

“It never occurred to me,” said the first ant; “but now you mention it, perhaps I might.”

And then the first ant thought and thought, and the end of it was that she slipped out of the town so soon as her day’s work was finished and strolled away toward the town where the robber ants lived.

And presently a fierce old soldier-ant came marching out at the gate.

Then the little worker’s heart beat very fast, and she turned as pale as an ant can turn.

“‘Nothing venture, nothing win,’” she said to herself, and walked straight up to the soldier.

“Hallo! Who are you?” said the soldier.

“Oh, I’m a neighbor of yours, from Beechtown,” said the little ant. “I’m just taking a stroll before supper.”

“A stroll before supper!” cried the soldier, staring very hard. “You don’t seem to have much work to do over there.”

“Why, no, I can’t say I have,” said the little ant.

“But I can see by your dress you’re a servant,” said the soldier-woman.

“So I am,” said the little ant. “But we servants of Beechtown have an easy place. A bit of dusting now and then, and a little light needlework; that’s all.”

“I heard a very different story only the other day,” said the soldier.

“Ah, but everything’s changed since the Beetles came,” said the little worker. “They do all the dirty work; and, my goodness! they can work, you may take my word for that! It’s worth something, I can tell you, to have two fine Beetles like that in the town!”

“Aha!” thought the soldier-woman to herself, “here’s something for us!”

And she was so taken up with thinking that she forgot to bid the little ant good night, and there and then she marched straight back to her town to tell the general what she had heard.

But the little ant went home well pleased with herself. And, sure enough, what she expected would happen did happen.

The robber-ants, as soon as they heard the soldier’s story, were as eager as possible to carry off the two Beetles who could work so well.

And to prevent any fuss and bother, this is what they did:

They took a great pitcher of ant-cow’s milk and mixed with it a few drops of the poison, which, as every one knows, an ant always carries about with her in her poison-bag. Then twelve soldiers took the pitcher to Beechtown and waited outside the gate for the Beetles to come out. And directly they saw them coming they put down the pitcher and hid behind a mountain of dead leaves.

But the Beetles drank up the sweet stuff till there was not a drop left at the bottom of the pail, and immediately the poison began to work, and both the Beetle and his wife fell back in a heap on to the grass, and there they lay, and could stir neither hand nor foot.

The robbers, you may fancy, lost no time, bundled the pair on to a stout rhubarb leaf, and dragged them away to their own city as fast as they could go.

Now, scarcely had they got them there when the poison began to wear off—for ants’ poison is not very strong, you see—and pretty soon the Beetle’s wife sat up and pinched her husband. It was not long before he sat up, too; and by and by those two were as clear in their heads and as firm on their legs as any two beetles ever were.

And now there was an unpleasant surprise in store for the robber-ants. When the Beetle’s wife had looked round a bit, she said to her husband:

“Why, it seems comfortable enough here. I don’t think we’ll trouble to go back to Beechtown. I think this will suit us very well.”

“Well, well, we’ll just see what the cooking’s like,” said he, and went straight to the palace where the six queen-ants who ruled over the robbers lived. He just said: “How-d’ye-do?” to the queens in an off-hand way, and then he sat down and helped himself to all the dishes he could find in the larder.

His wife, she did the same, and between them they finished all the food there was.

And so they went on, just as they were used to doing in Beechtown, and it did not take the robbers long to find out the mistake they had made.

The Beetles had never done a day’s work in their lives, and they had no notion of beginning now, just because the robbers expected it.

When they heard how they had been carried off, and why, they thought the whole affair a very good joke, and laughed and laughed till they grew purple in the face, and had to slap each other on the back to keep from choking.

The robbers, you may believe me, were as angry as angry could be. They coaxed and they threatened, but neither the Beetle nor his wife would do a stroke of work. On the contrary, they took such a deal of waiting upon that the robbers were driven well-nigh crazy, and racked their brains for a way to get rid of them.

But the Beetles liked their new quarters very well, and there they stopped.

So things went on, till at last the robbers made up their minds to give the Beetles the slip. And one dark night, while they were asleep, they packed their trunks and left the town. But the gate wanted oiling, and creaked so as they swung it open that the Beetle’s wife got nightmare and woke up.

In a minute, you may be sure, she had found out what was going on, and had wakened her husband. Then the two crept very softly out at the gate and kept the ants at a comfortable distance.

So the end of it all was that, though the robbers went far into the forest, many leagues from their old town, they had no sooner finished building the new one than in marched the Beetles, and went on in their old way as though nothing had happened.

Now, the robbers had settled so far away from Beechtown that it was not worth their while to come and steal the children of the harmless ants, for they found another town nearer to hand.

And so the harmless ants lived together quite happily and peacefully once more, and the clever little worker, to whom they owed their good fortune, was raised to great honor and glory.

But the robbers had to make the best of the Beetles, for get rid of them they never could. And if ever you should be passing that way, why, I make no doubt you’ll find them there still.

_Little Tuppen_

One day an old hen whose name was Cluck-cluck went into the woods with her little chick Tuppen to get some blueberries to eat. But a berry stuck fast in the little one’s throat, and he fell upon the ground, choking and gasping. Cluck-cluck, in great fright, ran to fetch some water for him.

She ran to the Spring and said: “My dear Spring, please give me some water. I want it for my little chick Tuppen, who lies choking and gasping under the blueberry-bush in the green woods.”

The Spring said: “I will give you some water if you will bring me a cup.”

Then Cluck-cluck ran to the Oak-tree and said: “Dear Oak-tree, please give me a cup. I want it for the Spring; and then the Spring will give me water for my little chick Tuppen, who lies choking and gasping under the blueberry-bush in the green woods.”

The Oak-tree said: “I will give you a cup if some one will shake my branches.”

Then Cluck-cluck ran to Maid Marian, the wood-cutter’s child, and said: “Dear Maid Marian, please shake the Oak-tree’s branches; and then the Oak-tree will give me a cup, and I will give the cup to the Spring, and the Spring will give me water for my little chick Tuppen, who lies choking and gasping under the blueberry-bush in the green woods.”

The wood-cutter’s child, Maid Marian, said: “I will shake the Oak-tree’s branches if you will give me some shoes.”

Then Cluck-cluck ran to the Shoemaker and said: “Dear Shoemaker, please give me some shoes. I want them for Maid Marian, the wood-cutter’s child; for then Maid Marian will shake the Oak-tree’s branches, and the Oak-tree will give me a cup, and I will give the cup to the Spring, and the Spring will give me water for my little chick Tuppen, who lies choking and gasping under the blueberry-bush in the green woods.”

The Shoemaker said: “I will give you some shoes if you will give me some leather.”

Then Cluck-cluck ran to Moo-moo, the ox, and said: “Dear Moo-moo, please give me some leather. I want it for the Shoemaker; for then the Shoemaker will give me some shoes, and I will give the shoes to Maid Marian, and Maid Marian will shake the Oak-tree’s branches, and the Oak-tree will give me a cup, and I will give the cup to the Spring, and the Spring will give me water for my little chick Tuppen, who lies choking and gasping under the blueberry-bush in the green woods.”

The ox, Moo-moo, said: “I will give you some leather if you will give me some corn.”

Then Cluck-cluck ran to the Farmer and said: “Dear Farmer, please give me some corn. I want it for Moo-moo, the ox; for then the ox will give me some leather, and I will give the leather to the Shoemaker, and the Shoemaker will give me shoes, and I will give the shoes to Maid Marian, and Maid Marian will shake the Oak-tree’s branches, and the Oak-tree will give me a cup, and I will give the cup to the Spring, and the Spring will give me water for my little chick Tuppen, who lies choking and gasping under the blueberry-bush in the green woods.”

The Farmer said: “I will give you some corn if you will give me a plow.”

Then Cluck-cluck ran to the Blacksmith and said: “Dear Blacksmith, please give me a plow. I want it for the Farmer; for then the Farmer will give me some corn, and I will give the corn to the ox, and the ox will give me leather, and I will give the leather to the Shoemaker, and the Shoemaker will give me shoes, and I will give the shoes to Maid Marian, and Maid Marian will shake the Oak-tree’s branches, and the Oak-tree will give me a cup, and I will give the cup to the Spring, and the Spring will give me water for my little chick Tuppen, who lies choking and gasping under the blueberry-bush in the green woods.”

The Blacksmith said: “I will give you a plow if you will give me some iron.”

Then Cluck-cluck ran to the busy little dwarfs who live under the mountains, and have all the iron that is found in the mines. “Dear, dear dwarfs,” she said, “please give me some of your iron. I want it for the Blacksmith; for then the Blacksmith will give me a plow, and I will give the plow to the Farmer, and the Farmer will give me corn, and I will give the corn to the ox, and the ox will give me leather, and I will give the leather to the Shoemaker, and the Shoemaker will give me shoes, and I will give the shoes to Maid Marian, and Maid Marian will shake the Oak-tree’s branches, and the Oak-tree will give me a cup, and I will give the cup to the Spring, and the Spring will give me water for my little chick Tuppen, who lies choking and gasping under the blueberry-bush in the green woods.”

The little dwarfs who live under the mountains had pity on poor Cluck-cluck, and they gave her a great heap of red iron-ore from their mines.

Then she gave the iron to the Blacksmith, and the plow to the Farmer, and the corn to the ox, and the leather to the Shoemaker, and the shoes to Maid Marian; and Maid Marian shook the Oak-tree, and the Spring got the acorn cup, and Cluck-cluck carried it full of water to her little chick Tuppen.

Then little Tuppen drank the water, and was well again, and ran chirping and singing in the long grass as if nothing had happened to him.

_The Story of the Four Little Children Who Went Round the World_

[_From “Nonsense Stories.”_]

Once upon a time, a long while ago, there were four little people whose names were Violet, Slingsby, Guy, and Lionel; and they all thought they should like to see the world. So they bought a large boat to sail quite round the world by sea, and then they were to come back on the other side by land. The boat was painted blue with green spots, and the sail was yellow with red stripes; and, when they set off, they only took a small cat to steer and look after the boat, besides an elderly quangle-wangle, who had to cook the dinner and make the tea; for which purposes they took a large kettle.

For the first ten days they sailed on beautifully, and found plenty to eat, as there were lots of fish; and they had only to take them out of the sea with a long spoon, when the quangle-wangle instantly cooked them; and the pussy-cat was fed with the bones, with which she expressed herself pleased on the whole; so that all the party was very happy.

During the daytime Violet chiefly occupied herself in putting salt water into a churn, while her three brothers churned it violently in the hope that it would turn into butter, which it seldom, if ever, did; and in the evening they all retired into the tea-kettle, where they all managed to sleep very comfortably, while pussy and the quangle-wangle managed the boat.

After a time they saw some land at a distance; and, when they came to it, they found it was an island made of water quite surrounded by earth. Besides that, it was bordered by evanescent isthmuses, with a great gulf-stream running about all over it; so that it was perfectly beautiful, and contained only a single tree, five hundred and three feet high.

When they had landed, they walked about, but found, to their great surprise, that the island was quite full of veal-cutlets and chocolate-drops, and nothing else. So they all climbed up the single high tree to discover, if possible, if there were any people; but having remained on the top of the tree for a week, and not seeing anybody, they naturally concluded that there were no inhabitants; and accordingly, when they came down, they loaded the boat with two thousand veal-cutlets and a million of chocolate-drops; and these afforded them sustenance for more than a month, during which time they pursued their voyage with the utmost delight and apathy.

After this they came to a shore where there were no less than sixty-five great red parrots with blue tails, sitting on a rail all of a row, and all fast asleep. And I am sorry to say that the pussy-cat and the quangle-wangle crept softly, and bit off the tail-feathers of all the sixty-five parrots, for which Violet reproved them both severely.

Notwithstanding which, she proceeded to insert all the feathers—two hundred and sixty in number—in her bonnet; thereby causing it to have a lovely and glittering appearance, highly prepossessing and efficacious.

The next thing that happened to them was in a narrow part of the sea, which was so entirely full of fishes that the boat could go on no farther; so they remained there about six weeks, till they had eaten nearly all the fishes, which were soles, and all ready cooked, and covered with shrimp-sauce, so that there was no trouble whatever. And as the few fishes who remained uneaten complained of the cold, as well as of the difficulty they had in getting any sleep on account of the extreme noise made by the arctic bears and the tropical turnspits, which frequented the neighborhood in great numbers, Violet most amiably knitted a small woolen frock for several of the fishes, and Slingsby administered some opium-drops to them; through which kindness they became quite warm, and slept soundly.

Then they came to a country which was wholly covered with immense orange-trees of a vast size, and quite full of fruit. So they all landed, taking with them the tea-kettle, intending to gather some of the oranges and place them in it. But, while they were busy about this, a most dreadfully high wind rose, and blew out most of the parrot-tail feathers from Violet’s bonnet. That, however, was nothing compared with the calamity of the oranges falling down on their heads by millions and millions, which thumped and bumped and bumped and thumped them all so seriously that they were obliged to run as hard as they could for their lives; besides that, the sound of the oranges rattling on the tea-kettle was of the most fearful and amazing nature.

Nevertheless, they got safely to the boat, although considerably vexed and hurt; and the quangle-wangle’s right foot was so knocked about that he had to sit with his head in his slipper for at least a week.