Front Matter
 Half Title
 Title Page
 Chapter I
 Chapter II
 Chapter III
 Chapter IV
 Chapter V
 Chapter VI
 Chapter VII
 Chapter VIII
 The dwarf in search of lodging

Group Title: Stories for childhood
Title: John's adventures, or, The little knight-errant
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00002756/00001
 Material Information
Title: John's adventures, or, The little knight-errant
Series Title: Stories for childhood edited by Mrs. Colman
Alternate Title: Little knight-errant
Physical Description: 65 p. : ill. ; 15 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Gray, A. A ( Ann Augusta ), 1812-1863
Livermore, Edward ( Publisher )
Colman ( Pamela Chandler ), 1799-1865
Publisher: Edward Livermore
Place of Publication: Boston
Publication Date: 1853
Copyright Date: 1846
Subject: Brothers -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Adventure and adventurers -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Dogs -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Knights and knighthood -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Printed boards (Binding) -- 1853   ( rbbin )
Bldn -- 1853
Genre: Printed boards (Binding)   ( rbbin )
novel   ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage: United States -- Massachusetts -- Boston
Statement of Responsibility: by Miss A.A. Gray
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00002756
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 002230805
oclc - 45964627
notis - ALH1170
 Related Items
Other version: Alternate version (PALMM)
PALMM Version

Table of Contents
    Front Matter
        Page 1
    Half Title
        Page 1a
        Page 2
    Title Page
        Page 3
        Page 4
    Chapter I
        Page 5
        Page 6
        Page 7
        Page 8
        Page 9
    Chapter II
        Page 10
        Page 11
        Page 12
        Page 13
        Page 14
        Page 15
        Page 16
        Page 17
    Chapter III
        Page 18
        Page 19
        Page 20
        Page 21
        Page 22
        Page 23
        Page 24
    Chapter IV
        Page 25
        Page 26
        Page 27
        Page 28
        Page 29
        Page 30
        Page 31
        Page 32
        Page 33
        Page 34
        Page 35
        Page 36
        Page 37
        Page 38
        Page 39
        Page 40
    Chapter V
        Page 41
        Page 42
        Page 43
        Page 44
        Page 45
    Chapter VI
        Page 46
        Page 47
        Page 48
        Page 49
        Page 50
    Chapter VII
        Page 51
        Page 52
        Page 53
        Page 54
        Page 55
        Page 56
        Page 57
    Chapter VIII
        Page 58
        Page 59
        Page 60
        Page 61
        Page 62
    The dwarf in search of lodging
        Page 63
        Page 64
Full Text











Entered m.crdi*g to Act of CoBreea, In th year IBS.
in ehe Clek'a Omic of the Dienct Cor t of the Dlstct of Mu4 a chuftt,.



ing poor Kitty Clover," said John to
his brother Thomas, who was hang-
ing on the rail-fence near which he
himself was standing.


What togues I where ? said Thomas.
Why, Mlo and Pompey. Look! They have ge,
Kitty cooped up in a corner, amongst some pieces
of board, and some stones and bushes, so that she
cannot get out; and there she stands, spitting fire as
hard as she can."
"Ah, I see her!" said Thomas. "The poor lit-
tle pussy! How she rounds her back up! "
She wants to make the dogs think she is a
camel," said John, "when she is not much bigger
than a gnat; not more than a thousand million times
bigger! "
Kitty Clover was a Maltese kitten, just verging
upon the ripeness of pussyhood; Milo, a very large
brown and while Newfoundland dog; and Pompey,
a middle-sized brown dog, of mongrel breed, with
upright ears and bull-dog nose. The boys called
the frolicsome creatures away from the affrighted
Miss Clover, and began playing with them,-send-
ing them after sticks, or making them jump up to
catch something from their hands. The boys, though
the two dogs belonged to their father, called them
theirs. Thomas claimed the mongrel, and John
the Newfoundland, which was a very well-trained


and trusty dog; and John had him so much undo
his control that he could often venture to ride upon
his back, and could even guide him sometimes, and
with especial ease whenever Mil's inclinations hap-
pened to be journeying in the route with his rider.
But, whether the dog followed Johnny's directions
from the instinct of obedience, or from some other
impulse, wholly independent of that young gentle-
man's command, it was all the same: Johnny always
considered Milo as his "most obedient" whenever
the creature went the way he would have him go.
Thomas, I will tell you what I mean to do,"
cried John. I mean to dress up like a soldier, and
make believe Milo is a great war-horse, and so ride
him out into the road, with a feather in my cap, and
my little wooden sword in my hand. Wouldn't that
be capital ?"
Yes," sid Thomas. "You can play you are a
knight, going off to meet with adventures, just like
the one brother Harry was reading about, you know.
Mr. -Mr -who was it ? Quixote, was it not "
"Mister Quixote! Ha! ha!"
"Well, Sir, I mean."
"Don Don Quixote, Tom. Don sounds fineri


and if I meet any one on my adventures who asks
my name, I shall say, Don John. John does not
sound very finely, though. I wish my name were
Orlando. Orlando Furioso would be a capital name
Harry has a book about him."
"Yes, yes; call yourself Orlando Furioso. I
would I said Thomas.
"I do not know but Don Giovanni would be bet-
ter, for that is my own name. Don Giovanni is
nothing but Mr. John, Harry says. Giovanni is the
Italian for JoAn."
Then you must call yourself Signor Giovanni."
"No. Don sounds finer. Yes, I will be Don Gio
vanni, a brave knight; and I will set off to seek
adventures, just as knights always did, you know,
and kill every thing that comes in my way-giants,
and dragons, and all sorts of monsters! said John;
and, calling Milo, he ran to the house to get his
feather and sword, and to dress himself in as cavalier-
like a style as he was able to. Milo was a remarka-
bly docile as well as tractable dog, and was never
unwilling that either John or Thomas should mount
his back. He was so large and strong, too, that he
would carry one of them (for they were but little


boys-John nine, and Thomas scarcely eight years
old) as far as the village, which was about half a
mile from the house where they lived. Several
times, when any one of the family went away in
the wagon or carryall, one of the boys had followed
after on Milo's back.



EQUIPPED in his cap and feather, and with
his sword by his side, little Johnny, or,
as he wishes to be called, Don Giovanni,
mounted his somewhat shaggy charger, and
was passing on towards the gateway which
led into the road, (Thomas running on before, beck-
oning the steed out,) when he was met by his brother
Harry, a lad of about fifteen, who halloed to him,
and threw a little stick, to make Milo spring after it.
"Don't, Harry! cried John. "1 want Milo to
go straight on. I am a knight, just setting out on
my gallant charger."
I rather think it is your charger setting out with
you. I am afraid he will prove a John Gilpin's
horse, rather than a knight's trusty charger, and carry
you just the way that happens to suit his own fancy,"
said Harry; for Milo had sprung after the stick, and
caught it in his mouth, nearly throwing his rider as
he did so.


"My horse will go very well, if you wm let him
be," said John.
Where are you bound, John? To Palestine ?"
I am not bound to any place in particular.
I "
"You will go where your steed will carry you,
eh, Johu?"
I am going to meet with fine adventures, and my
name is Giovanni. I am Don-Giovanm."

Ah! cried Harry,
eh?" and he sang

" the young and brave I '

'It was D ZnoiL, the young and bearv
Wu bound for Palestine.'


"But now tell me, Sir Knight of the Wooden
Sword, do you know how to play your part? What
does a knight have to do to prove himself gallant,
and worthy of his Dulcinea? "
He has to overcome giants or some kind of mon-
sters, or do some kind of brave deeds. But I do not
know what a Dulcinea is."
Ha ha What a knight-errant! Why, a Dulcinea
is the damsel be loves the best and thinks the pretti-
est, and who, if he proves himself brave, will accept
him for her knight."
"I do not know what a damsel is," said the
innocent and newly-opening germ of a knight-
Well, you are a green knight," said Harry. "A
damsel is a young woman or a little girl you can
call a damsel. Now, what little girl do you like the
best ?"
"I don't know, I am sure."
Well, what one do you think the prettiest ?"
Not any one, that I know of."
"Well, I do not know what you are to do, Sir
Ignoramus, without you meet with a damsel on your


way. Perhaps you may have such good fortune.
And this let me tell you, Sir Knight. You must
help every damsel (that is, little girl) whom you
see in any distress. No matter what it is,-if
you neglect to help her out of it, you are no true
Must I not help whomever I see in distress?"
asked John.
0, that depends some upon what their distress is.
If you see two persons fighting, you must defend the
weaker party; or, if you see one person beating or
in any way ill-treating another, you must rescue the
victim, even at the peril of your life. But, Sir John,"
added Harry, who was rather a roguish lad, and
wanted to amuse himself a little with the young
CQixote, "you are not half equipped. You ought
to have a shield and a lance, and a squire to fol-
low you, too; and, of all things, you should have
a pair of spurs. Whoever heard of a knight without
What shall I have for spurs? asked John. I
can make the cover of a tin pail do for a shield."
"Thomas," said Harry, run into the house, and


get the cover, and-yes-bring the pail with it,
Thomas sprang away into the house, saying he
would get the brightest tin cover he could find.
"And now for spurs," said Harry. "Your sword
will answer instead of a lance."
Yes; but I wish it were but made of steel, for I
am afraid it will not be strong enough to kill any
thing with, unless it is the grasshoppers," said the
young knight, who had begun now almost to fancy
he was really bound to do some kind of exploit with
his weapons.
Stab the grasshoppers right through the heart,
Johnny, or cut their heads off; and the dragon-flies,
too, (if you meet any,) for want of dragons. O! I
know what will do for spurs; burrs! burrs And
Harry went to a burdock bush, which was growing
close by, up against the side of the barn, and, making
up two large balls or bunches of the burrs, he stuck
one on each of the knight's stockings, just above the
heel of his shoe. "Now," said Harry to himself,
" the juvenile cavalier will find it rather a worse job
to dismount than he will exactly like. There he


said to John, as he fastened on the burrs, "these are
spurs that will answer two purposes, -to urge on
your steed, and to help keep yourself on."
"He will not feel them through all his long hair,"
said John, striking his heels against Milo's shaggy
sides till the burrs were well bedded in his hair.
" They prick me more than they do my horse."
"You must pull your feet away from the sides of
your steed, when you want to spur him on, or, I
should say, burr him on; that will pull his hair, and
hurt him, you know. a! ha ha!" cried the
roguish fellow, who could hardly speak for laughing.
"Yes; pull his hair to make him go! That'sone
way for'a knight to urge his charger: and there is
no fear but you will stick to your seat; is there,
Don ? Ha! ha! a knight who has been stuck to his.
steed will be but a poor horseman, if he gets thrown;
eh, John ?"
"Here comes Tommy, with the shield," said
"Here, Milo," said Harry, "take this pail in your
mouth." The obedient Mile took the pail, and trot-
ted on towards the gate.

I do not want my horse carrying a tin pail, just
like a milkmaid, or a schoolboy with his dinner! "
said the affronted knight. "I want to go of in
"He he! Excuse me, Sir John, for laughing,"
said Harry. "It is true, that the knights-errant did
not usually set forth on exactly such a charger as
yours,-a horse with his tail curled up over his
back, and a tin kettle hanging from his mouth; but
you know horses of this breed are not apt to move
forward in as straight a line as one might wish, but,
on the contrary, to take rather a meandering course.
Come, now, trot off. Do not lose your spurs. It is
no true knight who loses his spurs, remember."
The juvenile cavalier trotted out into the road, and
turned his steed towards the village, not by means
of a bridle-rein,- for the mouth of the dog is not, by
nature, suited to the bit, like that of the horse,- but
by pulling ne of his ears. It was chiefly by means
of his ears that Milo would be guided. If his rider
would turn him to the right, he pulled his right ear;
if to the left, his left ear; and if he wished him to
stop, he would pull both ears at once.


There goes Pompey after him," said Thomas.
"He ought to have some little imp or elf on
Pompey's back, to follow as his squire," said


UON GIOVANNI (thanks to the tin
kettle) found his gallant steed quite
manageable for a pretty good distance,
keeping the middle of the road, and
never turning aside, as Pompey did,
to snuffle among the bushes, on the
side-way, for birds, mice, or squirrels.
Is not this capital ? thought the young knight.
"I dare say Milo will carry me straight into the vil-
lage; and how all the little boys in the street will
wish they had such a dog-such a fine horse, I
mean! But I waut to meet with some adventures on
the way, though."
But there seemed to be nothing as yet to prove the
prowess of the knight. He met with nothing as big
as a mouse to overcome, nor had he seen as much as
a gooso in distress. There were geese and ganders
in the road, and turkeys, too, but they were all eat-
ing the grass or fishing quietly, at least till he came


near them, and then their only trouble seemed to be
from fear of him and his dogs; for the geese hissed
at him and waddled away, and the turkeys gobbled
and flew up on the fence. He had met one or two
wagons, and several men and boys, and overtook one
old woman; but none of these appeared to be in any
distress whatever, excepting the old woman, who
coughed very badly, and hobbled along, by help of a
cane, with great difficulty. Here, in truth, was
double trouble; but the knight knew no remedy for a
cough; at least not more remedies than the dame
herself, probably, could advise; nor could he render
her the assistance which a knight should render a
lame damsel,-that of giving her a seat upon his
good steed. Not one little girl had he seen, nor heard
one scream from female mouths, with the exception
of one very dolorous and often-repeated one from a hen
which a farmer's boy had caught, and was carrying
along with her head downwards. "The boy has a
right to catch his own hens," said the knight; so I
cannot take the side of the weaker party, though I
would be glad to for I would not carry a poor hen
in that way." He had now got nearly half way to
the village, when he saw, at some distance, a little
girl sitting on a stile. Ah! thought he, there


is a-what did Harry say ? a damsel, yes-a dam-
sel, at last. I hope she is in some distress," (for-
give the poor adventure-lacking knight,) "so that
I may help her out of it." He could not see her face,
as she sat with her back towards the road. Per-
haps she is crying," thought the knight, as he trotted
on towards her. If she is, I can tell her I am
sorry, or something." But alas! before the thought
had well passed through his head, she broke out into
I merry song, and began swinging her bonnet, which
she held in her hand, by the string. Well," thought
poor Johnny, "I do not see as any body is ever
going to want any help." The little girl turned her
head as he came up, and, on seeing him, cried out,
" Why! a little boy, riding on a dog! 0, how pretty "
and she laughed most merrily. She was such a very
sweet and kind-looking little girl, that John thought
he would stop and speak to her; so he pulled Milo's
right ear; for the little girl was on the right of him;
and the obedient dog or horse carried his rider close
by to the stile.
"Is that your dog?" asked the little girl, wh se
name was PhBbe, and who lives in the neat cottage
you may see yonder.


- -y

"Yes-it is my-my war-horse. He is a fine
charger, better than a donkey would make, I think;
almost as good as a pony. He is more safe than a
pony; because, if I should fall off, I should not
have far to fall," said the gallant horseman.
"Besides," said the damsel, "he can carry your
dinner, and a pony couldn't, you know. I suppose
you are coming from school, and had your dinner in
that tin pail."
"No, indeed. I am going to meet with adventures.
I am a knight, you see."
"A knight? 0, yes; I have heard about knights.
What is your name ?"
I am Don Giovanni."
"Joe Fanny? or Funny? I think you are funny.
What do you carry the cover in your hand for ? Won't
the dog carry the pail just as well with the cover
This is my shield; a knight carries a shield, you
"Yes-but-but knights' horses don't carry tin
pails in their mouths, do they ?"
"I wish Harry had not been quite so obliging,"
thought John; "but I know I will take the pall out of


Milo's mouth, and carry it in my hand, before I get to
the village. That would not look quite so queerly as
for my horse to carry it. Why," said he, "this kind
of horse will go better with something to carry in his
mouth. He will go just the way I want him to go
with that in his mouth. He will go right straight
along, without running off into the fields, or stopping
to play with other her- dogs, I mean."
He is a nice horse, I am sure. Will he take a
pig by the ear, and catch rats? I know a boy who

has one not a quarter as large as third, and he caught
a rat and ate him."

0, yes, that is, when he is a dog; but ihe is a
charger now, you know. But tell me if you know
of any body who is in any trouble. I cannot find
any one."
"I do not know,-let me think ;-why, there is
Mrs. Jones: she was in to see mother yesterday, and
she said she was in a great deal of trouble; but
Well, what was her trouble ?"
0, a good many tin things. One thing was, that she
had been churning a large churn full of cream, for
two whole days, and the butter would not come;
and another thing was, that one of her hens came off
without hatching a single chicken; and her baby was
teething, and so worrisome and the cat knocked
down her best cream-pot, and broke it, so she said,
into at least a hundred pieces; only think; at least, a
hundred! "



URF'LY, here was trouble enough; but
the poor knight had no charm so attractive
as to make butter come, or to call a
brood of chickens from a nest of spoiled
eggs; neitlhr was ihe a physician, to cnre
worrisome babies, nor a mender of broken
crockery; so he told the little girl that these were
not just the right kind of troubles that he meant.
"Blnt what do you want to hear about troubles
for?" asked the little girl, "and what kind of
troubles? Let me think; there is old Mrs. Gibbs,
who is so old that she has got the Saint Vitus's dance,
(I suppose,) and shakes like an aspen."
Like an ass-pen ?"
"Why, like a poplar, you know; and she has the
paralogy, (palsy,) and two grandchildren to maintain,
besides; and she is a poor widow, who has lost her
husband and all her money. I am sure I pity
her more than I do Mrs. Jones, if any thing. But


what do you want to know about these things
I want to help some one who is in distress; that
is what .the brave knights used to do; but I-1
believe it is only particular kinds of trouble that
knights can help. I cannot maintain this old wo-
man's grandchildren, you know. I have no money
at all, except a counterfeit half dollar. But what is
the paralogy'? Perhaps I could -
I meant paralysis, I believe. I don't know
exactly; but I believe it is a complaint that old wo-
men are apt to be troubled with; and other people
too, I think very likely."
0 O, then I could not help her. I am not a doctor.
I am a knight. Doctors cure and knights kill."
"That is, pretend to; you do not mean that you
really kill."
Yes, I would," said John. "I would kill all the
dragons that I meet if you would be my-my-
what was it?" thought he; "dul-dulcimer."
Dulcimer! what is that ? "
A young woman or little girl, that a knight loves
and fights for."
I do not care how much you love me," said the

little gill. "I should like to have every one love
me. But I do not want you to fight for me. I would
not have you kill a fly for my sake."
Well," said the gallant knight, "brother Harry
says I must have a little girl for a dulcimer, and I do
not know but you are about as pretty-looking as any
I can think of just now: so I believe I will call you
my dulcimer. I wish you were in some trouble, so
that I could help you out of it. I would do it if I
killed myself."
"You are very kind," said the little girl; "but I
do not know of any thing that troubles me."
"Is there nothing you would like to have me kill
for you ? "
"Nothing in the world."
"What is your name ?"
"That is the moon's name, and it is a pretty one;
but I must call you Dulcimer; no, Dulciana, I think
it was."
The patient steed had held the tin pnil until
he began to despair of any one relieving him of it,
and at last had set it down beside the stile, and was
now about to turn towards home. "Stop, Milo!"
said John; and he contrived to get the dog turned


around again; and, as the knight's new-fashioned
spurs would not allow him to dismount without some
difficulty, he said to Phoebe, Dulciana, my horse has
dropped his tin his the there do not you see
it ? won't you be so kind as to give Milo that again ?
He may carry it till we get to the village. Good by.
I shall see yon when I come back, perhaps."
"Good by," said Phnbe, I hope you will not kill
any thing; and I hope nobody will kdil you."
"Come, Pompey," cried John, as he set off: and
Pompey jumped up over the wall of a field near by,
in which he had been rambling, and followed on.
Johnny had not ridden much farther before he
heard, proceeding from a farm-yard which he was
passing, a dolorous screaming. "9Now," thought he,
"I have found some one to help," certainly. The
screams were certainly shrill enough to have come
from the month of a little girl; but Johnny's ear soon
perceived that they came from a mouth widely unlike
that of a young damsel; and, turning his eyes towards
the spot whence they came, he beheld a poor, fat,
little pig, which had got stuck between the bars of
a gate, and was struggling with all four of his chubby
legs. "I wish, I am sure," said the philanthropic
knight," that it were a litti- girl; but it is better than


nothing even to relieve a pig from pain;" and he
began to try to free himself from his spurs, that he
might dismount, and run to the rescue, when he saw
a man approach the gate, and pull the pig out from
his trap by the little struggling hinder legs, which
he still held, one in each hand, making the pig walk
on his fore legs, thus pushing him along as one would
a wheelbarrow, while the poor little animal squeaked
at the top of his lungs.
Your wheelbarrow creaks pretty loud," Johnny
cried out.
Not for the want of greasing," said the man.
Johnny rode on; and he had not gone far be-
fore his hopes were again aroused by another loud
screaming. These were certainly nothing less than
human screams, for they were now and then inter-
rupted by words, and they came from the inside of a
cottage. The cottage was close beside the road, and
"now is the time," thought Johnny, as he stopped
before the door; but, as he looked in, some doubts
arose; for he saw, through the open window, a woman
administering to a little boy a remedy for naugh-
tiness in the shape of a sound beating. The boy was
her own, for, Mother! mother! I won't do so again!
I won't!" were the words by which the screams


were interrupted. Here," said Johnny, "is one per-
son beating another, and Harry said I ought to rescue
one who was being beaten." But as John knew he
had no right to assault a woman for not sparing the
rod upon her own child, he trotted on. Pretty soon
he came to another house. In the yard of this house,
standing by the well, he saw a little girl; and not
only that, but, what was better still, she was weep-
ing. The well was close by the road; but the little
girl was leaning her head upon the curb, sobbing
alond, and did not hear or see the knight, who stood
ready to render her what assistance he might.
Is any thing the matter? asked Johnny.
The damsel looked up, and, when she beheld the
little knight, on his camnne steed, she half stopped
crying, but made no reply.
"Are you in any trouble?" asked the little knight;
"because, if you are, I will help you out of it. What
are you crying for?"
"1-I had a-a nice piece of gingerbread."
Well ? said the knight, expecting to hear more.
"It was all so pretty;-it had diamonds all over
it, and -"
Yes; printed all over with diamonds; marked all


crosswise, you know. It was a great, large, thin slice,
and I was biting it round into the shape of a little
girl. I had eaten it round, almost into a little girl,
and I was going to prick pin-holes through the head
for eyes, because the light shining through would
make such bright eyes! but before I had got it quite
done, I I -." Here the distressed damsel's voice
was choked by sobs.
What ? what ?" cried the knight, quite impatient
to hear the most pathetic part of the story, for this
was evidently at hand.
Somehow, I do not know how, I let it fall right
down into the well."
It could hardly be expected that Johnny's gal-
lantry should lead him to jump down into the
well to rescue from oblivion the young artist's un-
finished piece of statuary. No: the young lady,
carved in gingerbread and covered with diamonds,
and with eyes so bright and clear-sighted that
like the somnambulist, she could see as well at
the back of the head as the front, must surely be left
to the, in this case, detrimental effects of cold water.
So the knight merely told the sobbing damsel how
glad he would have been to relieve her distress, if he


only could have done so; and he told her he was Don
Giovanni, a knight riding forth to seek adventures
and to help all whom he might find in trouble, and
that Milo was his gallant wa. horse; and the afflicted
maiden soon stopped sobbing, and, drying her eyes,
seemed to quite forget the sweet little girl down in
the well; and, when the knight showed her his spurs,
she was so much amused that she showed him, in
return, the fine row of ivory chisels with which she
had been carving the pretty slice of gingerbread.
Johnny then bade her good by, and set off again for
the village. It happened, when he had got within a
very short distance of the village, that he was over-
taken by a man on horseback. The dogs seemed to
like to have some one to follow, and they both kept
the middle of the road, trotting along very steadily
behind the ho.se. But, before they had gone far, the
man turned his horse and rode down a lane on the
right, and, as he turned the corner, down went Pom-
pey after him. Johnny, with Milo, was a few steps
behind, and when he had reached the turning also, he
pulled, but in vain, most stoutly, at his steed's left ear,
and pointed along the main road with his sword; but
Milo would take neither hints nor coaxings, and at a


round trot followed on after the horseman and Pom-
pey. The horseman seemed amused with his fol-
lowers, and, looking around at them, he laughed, and
called John his fairy page. Presently he set off at
a hard gallop, saying he would see how well his page
could keep his seat; but Pompey just then happened
to be very busy scenting out something amongst
some bushes by the road-side, which he was unwill-
ing to quit, and Milo, with his burdened back,
probably did not fool much like running at speed.
for he only took afew bounds, and then broke down
into a sober trot again, and in a moment more the
horseman was hidden from view by the curve of the
road. Pompey, having now quitted his search in lhe
bushes, hastened very suddenly, as though something
had caught his eye, through an open bar-way into a
field. Milo sprang after him, notwithstanding all
Johnny's persuasions and commands to the contrary,
and followed on, down a cart-road which led to a spot
of lovo, -narshy ground, through which ran a large and
deep b;3ok. John knew the place very well. lie had
often. I een there for berries and flowers, and to look
for tu. lies in the brook, or to get the cat-o'-nine-tails
that g ew on its borders. It was a very pretty marsh;

and John would have been willing for Milo to have
carried him down there, but that he thought he
should be more likely to meet with some adventure
at the village, and he wished, besides, to have the
little village boys and girls see what a fine dog he
had, and wish they had such a one. By the time
Milo had got down into the swamp, and stood among
the flags and sedge-grass, John discovered what it was
which had so suddenly attracted Pompey thither.
An old, half-decayed tree stood close beside the brook,
and one of its lower branches stretched entirely
across the brook. The bough was almost wholly
bare of leaves; but on the middle of it, and directly
above the stream, was perched as queer and impish-
looking a creature as ever was seen either in fairy
or fancy-land. It was no bird, for it sat astride upon
tho bough; neither did it look like a beast, exactly,
for it had a straw hat upon its head; yet it surely was
no human being, for it had a tail -a long and slender
tail. What could it have been? Johnny knew what
it was. It startled him at first; but, on a near and
distinct view of it, he cried out, "Aha! if here is
not Mr. M- 'squeer, four-fingered monkey! The
monkey was a funny-looking creature even with-


out a hat; but he looked more so than ever now;
because the large puffs of white fur on his cheeks
made him look as if he had a powdered wig on under
the broad hat. The dogs knew the creature, too
and had often played with him, and he had ridden
them both; but they would often bark at him when
they met him, and they stood now, deep in the mud,
barking at the comical-looking creature while he sat
on the bough and chattered at them. But John's
Newfoundland steed did not stand long in the grass,
but went plunging into the brook, which was so deep
that the water came up above the soles of John's
.:- U"i. t ot high enough to come into them. His


feet got a little wet, however, though he held them
up as high as his spurs would let him.
Milo crossed the brook, and, when he had got upon
the opposite bank, John noticed that he pricked up his
ears as if he saw something in front of him. John
looked to see what it might be, and espied, at a short
distance, a man with a gun in his hand, and no hat on
his head. It was now pretty evident where the mon-
key had obtained the hat he wore. "Now," thought
John, if I can make that monkey give me the hat, I
can help two at once, for very likely the man means
to shoot the poor thief;" so, by calling out and beckon,
ing to the monkey, John soon enticed him from his
seat on the bough, and then took off his cap, and
pretended to throw it on the ground, thinking the
monkey would imitate him and throw down the hat;
but the creature only took off the hat, and made a
low bow to John, and then placed it on his head
again. Several times more John took off his cap and
held it behind his back, so that the monkey, not see*
ing it, should think he had thrown it down; but
the creature would not be induced to part with the
hat, and would merely keep taking it of with a most
polite bow, and then replace it upon his head.


You have been taught politeness if not honesty,
sir, I should think," said John. Come, give me that
hat, or I will stab you through and through with my
sword." But the monkey only chattered and grinned;
and then, in order to imitate Johnny still further, he
sprang upon Pompey's back. Pompey for a few
moments pranced and sidled like a spirited horse,
seemingly not very much pleased with his rider; but
all at once he gave a spring forward, and rushed at full
speed along the cart-road, in the direction of the lane.
Mile, dropping the tin pail, and with a sudden bark,
bounded after. The two dogs seemed to be giving
chase to something, and John soon saw what it was.
It was a poor little pussy. Up the cart-road, and along
the lane, fled the affrighted cat, and away went the dogs
after her, brushing through the bushes, thus scratch-
ing their riders most unmercifully; but neither the
knight, nor his unexpectedly acquired page, could very
easily dismount while their steeds were going at such a
rapid pace; so the best they could do was to cling on
with both hands as tightly as they could, lest they
should be thrown suddenly to the ground. Johnny
had pulled up, from the border of the stream, a long
cat-o'-nine-tails, which he thought would, atleast, look

more like a lance than his wooden sword did, though
it would not serve very well to assault and overcome
monsters with. "This," thought he, "I will carry in
a handsome and graceful way, just as the knights did
their lances; and when I enter the village, with my
funny squire riding behind me, I shall make quite a
fine figure." But the poor little knight was destined
to enter the village in a much less knightly style
than he had anticipated. As to the manner in which
he held his lance, nothing could have been less
graceful and knightly; for, when his steed started off
in pursuit of pussy, he was obliged to grasp the
creature's neck, fastening his fingers into the shaggy
hair, in niler to keep his seat; and the long cat-o'-nine-
tails, held between the fingers of his right hand, lay
horizontally across Milo's neck; neither did the tin
cover sustain quite the position that a shield would
have done in the hand of a knight, hanging, as it did,
by the ring, from the little finger of Johnny's left hand,
while the hand was fastened to Milo's neck. The
cat turned up from the lane into the main road, and
sped on in the direction of the village. The dogs
kept up the chase, but, burdened as they were, did
not overtake her, and she escaped them by running


into a house at the entrance of the village, (probably
the hose where she belonged,) at the door of which
she was welcomed by a woman, with "Ah! poor
puss are the dogs after you ? And the woman
quickly shut the door, to keep the dogs out.




g N what a style, alas, did the proud young
knight enter the town! Instead of pacing
calmly in, with a stately step, and with a
squire or pretty page riding at a respectful
distance behind, poor Johnny, sitting his
steed in the ungraceful manner already described,
went chasing in at some distance behind his comical-
looking squire; for Pompey, being the fleeter dog
of the two, though not so strong as Milo, was several
yards in advance.
Finding their pursuit of the cat cut short, the dogs
trotted on through the street, keeping the sidewalk,
and following close behind an apparently young, yet
too evidently old, lady, who, in an array of silks and
satins brilliant as the rainbow, was most majestically
pacing forth, beneath the shadow of her parasol. But
so slowly did the lady pace along, that her two follow-
ers soon overtook her, and, before she could turn ihe

head, which she was about to do on hearing the
shouts of the village boys, the two steeds, with their
riders, were passing by her, one on each side. It
happened that the sidewalk was rather narrow, and
somewhat elevated above the middle of the street, so
that there was quite a slope from it into the street,
and at the bottom of the slope a gutter, not wholly
devoid of mud, and containing a tolerably large,
though by no means well-assorted, assortment of
decayed vegetables, dirty shavings, and orange-peel.
And it also happened that Pompey, not considering
the politeness due to a lady, was so ungallant as to
take the inside of the walk, and thrust himself, with
his impish and fantastical-looking rider, between the
lady and the wall. The lady looked down, on per-
ceiving her garments brushed by something, gave a
scream loud enough to have roused up the gallantry
of any brave knight, and started towards the outer
side of the walk; and, as it happened that Milo was
just then passing on that side of the lady, what could
be expected but that she should stumble over him ?
This she certainly did do, and not only stumbled, but
fell; and, in her fall, nearly brought the knight and
his charger to the ground also; but Milo, springing


forward, saved his rider from such disgrace, while the
brilliantly-arrayed lady, sliding down the slope, was
deposited amongst the cabbage-leaves and orange-
peelings, frightening, at the same time, four or five
ducks from their dinner, which waddled away, quac-
kling, in great surprise and consternation ; but their
noise was nearly drowned, or at least unheeded, amid
the groans and exclamations of the lady, whose pea-
green silk dress and rose-colored satin bonnet partook
now too much of the color of mother earth.
"0 dear!" thought the poor little knight, as he
turned and looked upon this undeniably distressed
lady, "I can bring folks into trouble, if I cannot help
them out of any. But I will be as polite as I can
now." And he began to disengage himself from his
spurs. "It is Miss Susanna Benson, the minister's
own aunt," he said to himself. "What shall I do ?
I shall be afraid to go to church next Sunday!"
Dear I dear! What shall I do?" cried Miss
Susanna, as she raised herself from her horizontal
position, and began to adjust her bonnet, which had
got somewhat awry. "0, my clothes are all spoiled
utterly ruined every rag I have on "
"Are you hurt any, ma'am?" asked the poor


knight, who had now succeeded in dismounting, and
had taken his handkerchief from his pocket, with the
intention of wiping some of the mud from the lady's
dress. "Hurt? cried the lady; "I'm sure I don't
know, nor care; but I know I have utterly ruined
my silk dress. I would rather have broken a limb,
much rather; and my rose-colored 0 dear,
dear! I shall dream all night about it. I know I
shall! "
"Let me wipe off the mud, ma'am. I did not
mean to do it. I was riding along, and going to do
all the good I could, instead of--"
"Take away your dirty handkerchief I Did't
mean to? Going to do good? A new way to do
good, to go riding dogs about the streets; as if dogs
alone were not a sufficient nuisance in the streets, or
boys either, without their coming upon one both
together, and monkeys to boot I Don't touch me,
for mercy's sake Where is that monkey, or what-
ever it was?"
John looked about to see where Pompey and the
monkey had betaken themselves; but he saw
nothing of them. Milo was standing near, and, as
Miss Susanna would not accept of his proffered aid,


Johnny picked up his shield, and again mounted hWs
steed, who now, as he stood with his tongue hanging
out of his mouth, looked as if he would be likely to
trot on very sedately. Well," said Johnny, as he
noticed on the ground the cat-o'-nine-tail, broken in
the middle, "I have shivered one lance-though, I
must confess, it was not in defence of a damsel, as
Harry says the knights did."



ILO trotted along very quietly, and
Miss Susanna paced after. Pres-
ently, Johnny saw Pompey coming
over from the other side of the road;
but the monkey he saw nothing
more of, and he was not sorry to be rid of such
a squire. With the exception of overturning one
or two little children, that were totaling along the
sidewalk, and costing their attendant maids a few
screams, the knight did no further damage in the
village. His steed trotted along till he came to
a pump, with a tub of water under its spout, where
he stopped, of his own free-will, to drink; and as,
unlike the generality of steeds, he reared up and
placed his fore feet upon the edge of the tub, (which,
being one half of a hogshead, was rather high for his
nose,) Johnny slid down the back, and then off from
the crupper of his horse. This was not a usual nor


a graceful way for a knight to dismount, but so
ended Johnny's knightly ride. When Milo had done
drinking, though, he attempted to mount again; but
it seemed to be the dog's opinion that it was now
quite time for a little rest; for, just as John was
throwing his right leg over the creature's back, down
he went flat upon the ground, and, laying his head
upon his fore paws, seemed to be composing himself
for an afternoon nap; and Pompey did the same.
They were lying in the shadow of a tree which
overhung the pump; and, Johnny thinking it no
more than fair that his steed should have a little
rest, and feeling also the need of some himself, he
let Milo remain where he was, and threw himself
down on a little grassy spot, beside him. While he
sat there, he began to think about poor Miss Susanna;
and he felt so badly on account of the injury which
her handsome silk dress and satin bonnet had sus-
tained by his means, and the vexation le had occa-
sioned her, that he determined, lest he should bring a
like disaster upon some one else, not to mount again
till he had got out of the village. He resolved, also,
not to go on any farther, but to return to the marsh,


and look for the tin pail, which Milo had dropped
there. So, as soon as he thought the dogs had got
well rested, John set off again for the marsh, which
he soon reached by a short cut through the fields.
He recollected the exact spot where the pail had
been dropped, and thither he made his way, through
the bushes and over the boggy ground, as straight as
he could. He found the tin pail lying near the
brook, and was just picking it up, when he was
startled by the loud bleating of a lamb from amongst
the bushes, close beside him. He knew there were
no sheep kept in that field, and, in great wonder-
ment, he went searching in amongst the bushes,
where he presently discovered a fat and pretty little
lamb, looking to be about six or eight weeks old;
there was a string hanging from its neck, and the end
of the string had become entangled in the bushes,
so that the poor lamb could only move a few steps.
John knew this must be a pet of some one, which
had strayed away, and now could not return to its
owner; so he disentangled the string, and led the
lamb from out the bushes, with the intention of
taking it to the nearest house, that he might inquire


whom it belonged to. Near by the marsh there was a
deep and thickly-wooded dell, on the steep sides of
which he had often been to gather hazel-nuts. He
was leading the lamb-which was very quiet,and not
much afraid of him nor of the dogs-along in the
direction of this dell, and had come quite near,
when he heard, proceeding from the bottom of it,
another voice of distress. It was the voice of a child,
and John thought it sounded like a little girl's voice,
and he could not help hoping it might be the mis-
tress of the lamb. The child was not really sobbing,
apparently, but, in most woful tones, kept calling,
"May! little May! where are you, little May?"
The brook of the marsh went winding down towards
the dell, where at length it fell, foaming, in a pretty
cascade. John ran along the brook's border till he
found himself at the otto the bottom of the beautiful dell,
through which the brook, singing as it went its
pleasant Way, flowed along in the shade of over-
hanging trees and clustering underwood. Seeing no
one there, John gave a shout, and the lamb, too,
bleated, as though to call some one; and now, all at
once, a little girl appeared from amongst the bushes,


who, so soon as she beheld the lamb, sprang for-
wards, laughing, and, as she stooped down and
threw her arms around it, cried, Why, May you
are not dead, are you ? The ugly creature did not
kill you, did he?"



B FORE the little girl had had time to
notice who it was had brought her lit-
te pet back to her, Johnny had recog-
r nized in her the little girl whom he
had found singing on the style-little
Phtbbe, his own damsel, for whom he had promised
to do knightly deeds. And now, in truth he had
done her a service without knowing it.
"Ah !" cried Phoebe, as she lifted her head from
the lamb's neck and looked up at a., l amling
through the tears that rested on her rosy cheeks, "is
it yon, Joseph ? Where did you fincdmy lammy ? "
le was caught in the bushes, down in the
marsh," said John. "I am glad I found him for
I had him close by the brook here, and was
holding him by the string, and Mr. M- 's ugly
monkey came running through the dell, and when


May saw him, he broke away from me and scam.
pered off as fast as ho could go; and I have been
looking all about the dell for him. 0, I was so
frightened! I was afraid the monkey might have
killed him."
That old monkey is a rogue," said John. I
have had enough of him to-day, I know that."
Have you seen him about here this afternoon ?
asked Phoebe.
"Yes. He undertook to be my squire, and rode
into the village with me."
"Ah! Now tell me about your adventures, Jo-
"My name is not Joseph," said John. 'It is
John Muggins."
"John Muggins? Why, I thought you said it
was Joe-something."
"No, 'tis not; 'tis John Muggins," said Johnny,
whose heart was now so taken up with the little
girl's sorrow and joy on account of her lost and found
pet, and with delight that he had been Ihe one to
find the pet for her, that he had nearly forgotten to
keep up his character of the gallant knight, Giovanni.
And now tell me what brave deeds you have


done," said Phoebe.
distress ?"


"Did you relieve any body's

"Why, I-I tried to. I should if I could."
"Well, whom did you meet first that wanted help?"
"Nothing but a pig."
"Ha, ha! Well, did you help him?"
"Why, no. Some one else helped him before I
could dismount."

"That was a pity.
"Let me think.

Whom did you meet next ?
0, it was one person beating

"And you drove away the one who was doing
such a naughty thing?"
"No, I didn't; because it was only a woman

whipping her little boy.

Then next I met a little

girl, crying because she had dropped her ginger
"Ah! then you have helped somebody. Yot
certainly picked up her gingerbread?"

"Why, no.

I should if she had dropped it any

where else; but I could not go down into the well,
you know. She dropped it right into the well."
What a pity And what next ?"
"Next I went down into the marsh, close by here,
you know."

54 JOHN'S AfDVENvrOes.

"I thought you were going straight to the vil-
"I did mean to; but-but-but Milo carried
me -
"O, what an unfortunate knight! You went
because your steed would go, as John Gilpin did
to his friend the draper's."
Well, I found a man in distress down there."
What did you do for him ? "
"I did all I could. That old monkey had stolen
his hat, and I-I tried to get it away from him."
John then gave Phlcbe an account of the pussy
chase into the village. But when I got into the
village," said he, laughing, I did break a lance for
one lady; or, no I believe she broke it for me "
"What do you mean? You did, then, help one
out of some trouble ?"
Why, no; but I-I threw one into it "
"Why, John! what a knight! I thought you
said knights helped people out of trouble."
"So they did, when they could; but, somehow,
I could not find just the right sort of trouble, while I
was playing knight-errant; but I have, at last, done
one good deed, have I not? "


'Yes, indeed. You brought me my little lamnmy
But Miss Susanna Benson! Shall I not be afraid
to go to church next Sunday?"
She is one of the grandest ladies in the village,"
said Phoebe. "Only think, John! But it was not
your fault, exactly."
"I do not care whether she is grand or not,"
said John. I should have been sorry to throw
any one down into the mud. Where do you go to
church ? "
I go to the church near our house; the church
with the two square towers."
Do you ? That is just where I go. It seems to
me I have seen you before, walking to church. Don't
you wear a white frock, and a straw hat with a blue
ribbon ?"
Yes; that is exactly what I wear, sometimes."
"And you live in that cottage, close by the
church ?"
John and Phoebe staid by the brook a while
longer, and talked, while the lamb laid himself near
them on the grass, and the dogs went rambling


about where they chose. While they sat talking,
John saw a sparrow fly from out some bushes not far
off, and he went and peeped in amongst the bushes,
to see if he could find its nest; and there indeed it
was, with three little young ones in it, stretching
their mouths wide open. He hastened back and
told Phcebe, and then he took her by the hand and
led her to the place, that she might see the pretty
nest. But, as the sparrow was chirping near by, and
seemed disturbed, they both left the spot

JOHNxS "DVE1 S. 57

e 5.9


I .- HIE dell was such a beautiful place, and
-f r John and Phombe hked each other so
well, that they staid there, rambling
about, gathering flowers, and looking
for birds' nests, till nearly sunset,
when Phtbe said it was time for her to be upon
her way home; and John said he would go with
her as fai as the head of the lane, for the lane
was also his nearest way home; and so they all
went along together-Phebe with her lamb, and
John with his two dogs. But, before they had
reached the lane, John had the pleasure of again
exercising his gallantry and his kindness in the
relief of female distress. This sufferer was no less
a personage than a favorite hen of Phaebe's, which
had strayed away into the fields behind the house,
and had been pounced upon by a hawk. The
hawk had let her fall upon her back, and was just


about to pounce upon her a second time, when,
seeing John running up, nourishing his cap in his
hand, he changed his mind, and flew off.

When they parted, at the turning of the lane,
Phcebe invited John to come and see her the next
day, and to bring his brother Thomas, and they
would have a little play-supper together, on a bench
just outside the cottage door.
When John got home, lie told his adventures to
Harry and Thomas, very much to their amusement,
especially that of Harry, who seemed to take a most
cruel satisfaction in repeating over the words, Poor


Miss Susanna! If that wasn't the cream of it!
which he always followed by a loud laugh.
The next afternoon, John and Thomas went to see
Phoebe and her pretty lamb. They found Phoebe
spreading, upon a small bench, in a shady place near
the cottage door, her little tea-set. Thomas thought
she was one of the pleasantest little girls he had ever
seen, and May the fattest and cleanest lamb. When

their little table was all prepared, the three children
sented themselves around it, and the lamb came and
laid his little nose upon it several times, as if he


wanted to make one of the supper party ; so Phoebe
went and brought some milk in a pail and fed him
with it; and then he went and lay down on the
grass. While the children ate from their little dishes,
which Phoebe had arranged and filled so prettily,
they amused themselves and each other by telling
anecdotes of their pets. The boys had many mar-
vellous accounts to give of the sagacity and faithful-
ness of Milo and Pompey, and Phoebe had much to
tell about the gentleness and pretty ways of her




E night, during a tremendous storm of
wind and rain, a dwarf came travelling
through a little village, and went from
cottage to cottage, dripping with rain,
knocking in vatm at the doors for admission.
At the very eod of the village there dwelt two
onlet. poor people a man and his wife. Tired and
faini, tie dwarf crept on his staff up to their house,
and appeal, m~odtestly, three times at Ihe little win-
dow. Immtedi tely the old shepherd opened the door
for him, and cheerfully offered him such cheer as the
house nil'rded. After he had eaten, the dwarf said,
" I 1hnnk you from my heart for this, and God reward
you for it I Now that I am rested, I will proceed on
further." "God forbid cridd the good woman;
"you surely don't think of going out in the night
and i the storm ? It were better for you to take a

bed here, and set out in the daylight." Bil tihe
dwarf shook his head, and replied, You little know
what business I have in hand. But to-morrow you
shall see that I am not ungrateful for ite kindness
you have shown to me." So saying, the dwarf
But (lie storm and tempest still increased. The
lightning flashed along the red sky, and torrents of
water poured down Ihe hills and through the valley.
The waves had reached the cottage of the two old
people, and, in terror and dismay, they stood before
their door. They then beheld approaching, in the
middle of the stream, a large piece of rock, and on it
jumped merrily the dwarf, as if he was riding and
steering it with a great trunk of a pine, till he brought
it before the house, where it stemmed the water and
kept it from the cottage, so that both it and the good
owners escaped. The dwarf then vanished in the
air, while the old people were praying to God, and
thanking himn for their deliverance.

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