Front Cover
 Title Page
 Table of Contents
 The Christmas angel
 The palace of the days
 Ordinary blessings
 The north sea and the south...
 Karl the fiddler
 Back Cover

Group Title: Christmas angel, and other stories
Title: The Christmas angel, and other stories
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00055399/00001
 Material Information
Title: The Christmas angel, and other stories
Physical Description: 78 p. : ill. ; 15 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Raymond, Rossiter W ( Rossiter Worthington ), 1840-1918
A.D.F. Randolph & Co ( Publisher )
St. Johnland Stereotype Foundry ( Stereotyper )
Publisher: Anson D.F. Randolph & Co.
Place of Publication: New York
Manufacturer: St. Johnland Stereotype Foundry, Stereotypers
Publication Date: 1870, c1869
Copyright Date: 1869
Subject: Christmas -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Fantasy -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Christian life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Children -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Children's stories   ( lcsh )
Children's stories -- 1870   ( lcsh )
Bldn -- 1870
Genre: Children's stories   ( lcsh )
novel   ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage: United States -- New York -- New York
United States -- New York -- Suffolk County
Statement of Responsibility: by Rossiter W. Raymond.
Funding: Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00055399
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: Baldwin Library of Historical Children's Literature in the Department of Special Collections and Area Studies, George A. Smathers Libraries, University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved, Board of Trustees of the University of Florida.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 002934228
notis - APG5856
oclc - 36141232

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Cover 1
        Cover 2
    Title Page
        Page 1
        Page 2
    Table of Contents
        Page 3
        Page 4
        Page 5
        Page 6
    The Christmas angel
        Page 7
        Page 8
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 11
        Page 12
        Page 13
        Page 14
        Page 15
        Page 16
        Page 17
        Page 18
        Page 19
    The palace of the days
        Page 20
        Page 21
        Page 22
        Page 23
        Page 24
        Page 25
        Page 26
        Page 27
        Page 28
        Page 29
        Page 30
    Ordinary blessings
        Page 31
        Page 32
        Page 33
        Page 34
        Page 35
        Page 36
        Page 37
        Page 38
        Page 39
        Page 40
        Page 41
        Page 42
        Page 43
        Page 44
        Page 45
        Page 46
        Page 47
    The north sea and the south sea
        Page 48
        Page 49
        Page 50
        Page 51
        Page 52
        Page 53
        Page 54
        Page 55
        Page 56
        Page 57
        Page 58
        Page 59
        Page 60
        Page 61
        Page 62
        Page 63
        Page 64
    Karl the fiddler
        Page 65
        Page 66
        Page 67
        Page 68
        Page 69
        Page 70
        Page 71
        Page 72
        Page 73
        Page 74
        Page 75
        Page 76
        Page 77
        Page 78
    Back Cover
        Cover 1
        Cover 2
Full Text



The BdAi Lkbra ry
a jmfBl, aid)






ENTERED, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1869, by


In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United
States for the Southern District of New York.



SEA. . . 48


Ti-HE.-i stories contained in the following
'i. I ges were originally written, princi-
ly, as annual "Christmas Stories,"
to be read from the manuscript for the enter-
tainment of the members of Plymouth Sun-
day-school-the author's experience having
led him to prefer such a method of interesting
and amusing the young, to the more easy but
perhaps less edifying devices of presents,
prizes, and "refreshments." The majority of
children like stories quite as well as they like
candies and cakes. These unpretending efforts,
being received with approbation by the not
very critical audience for which they were in-


tended, were subsequently published, one in
the "Mother at Home," and the rest in the
"Examiner and Chronicle," from which publi-
cations they are now taken, to be gathered in
their present form.
R. W. R.


" NCE upon a time a little princess,
(fi ,. whose name was Theodosia, awoke
early in the morning, and as she
lay in her soft bed, she heard the
chiming of bells, and she clapped her hands,
and said, "How glad I am! I know what
the bells are saying. It is Christmas morn-
ing!" And she was so eager that she for-
got to say her prayers, and she forgot to
call good morning to the king her father,
and the queen her mother, and she slipped
quickly out of bed, and ran barefooted
down the marble stairs into the great palace
drawing-rooms, to find what gifts the Christ-
mas had brought her. As she pushed open


the heavy door, she heard a sound like the
rustling of wings, and it frightened her for
a minute; but the Christmas bells rang
clearly outside, and that gave her courage
again; so she went boldly in. Ah, that
was a beautiful sight! It was not yet broad
day, but there was a soft light in the vast
room, that seemed to come from a great
white pearl that hung from the centre of
the ceiling, and to be reflected from the
broad mirrors on every wall.
"Al !" thought Theodosia, "how I wish
my present might be pearls!" Then she
looked again, and saw around the hall tab-
lets with golden letters, and on each was a
name. There was the king's name, and the
queen's name, and the name of every one
in the royal household; and under each was
a heap of beautiful gifts. Her own name
she could scarcely see, for it was far at the
other end of the long hall; but she ran
toward it, saying to herself, "I don't care
what other folks are going to have, I want to


see my pretty gifts." So at last she came to
the tablet on which her name appeared ; but
alas! there was nothing under it-only a
black leather bag, and upon it these words:
"This is for selfish Theodosia."
Still she thought that perhaps it might
contain something beautiful for her, and
she quickly raised it from the floor. But it
was locked, and there was no key, and all
she found by looking carefully was another
inscription, engraved in small, fine letters, in
the steel of the lock-" I am worth much to
him who can open me!" The poor little
princess stamped her bare feet on the cold
floor with vexation and rage, and was
ready to cry, only she was too proud ; when
suddenly she saw in one of the mirrors a
dazzling and beautiful angel, standing be-
hind her. She was not frightened; for even
in the glass she could see that he was kind
and gentle. His garments were white as
snow, and his face was fairer than the fairest
picture ever thought of in a dream. Little


Theodosia began to grow calmer as she saw
his soft, clear eyes fixed upon her, and she
turned herself to him at once, and said, "I
know who you are; you are the Christmas
angel." And strange to say, at that moment
she perceived that the great pearl no longer
hung from the centre of the ceiling, but
shone upon the angel's brow. And he smiled
a smile like sunshine, and then grew very
grave and sad, and said to her, "Poor child!
you do not know the secret that unlocks all
treasures! But if you will come with me,
we will find some one who can tell us!"
Then he held out his hand, and Theodosia
put her hand in it at once, for she had no
fear of him. Out through the door they
went (it opened and shut of itself,) and out
through the great archway of the palace,
into the wide, wide world. It seemed to
Theodosia that her feet scarcely touched
the ground, and she did not feel the cold,
for the warm hand of the angel sent a
delicious thrill through all her limbs. In


one hand she grasped tightly the mysterious
bag, and every once in a while she looked
up at the beautiful face of the angel, upon
whose brow the great pearl shone serenely
like a star.
As they passed through the quiet streets,
they saw few people stirring. Here and
there some good Christian hastened to the
early Christmas service, and high up in the
cathedral tower was a bright light, where
the old sexton still rang merrily the Christ-
mas bells. And as they walked, the angel
began to tell her the old, sweet .story of the
first Christmas day, and the Christmas gift
of the child Jesus, which the dear God
made to the world he loved, and how the
kings and wise men came from far countries
with rich offerings in their hands, and how
the very beasts of the stable and the field
were moved with strange reverence, and
how the angels sang for joy. Theodosia
looked up and said timidly, "And were you
there?" The angel seemed to be looking


at some fair vision a long way off, as he said,
low and sweetly, "Yes, I was there :"-and
with that he went on to tell how lovely was
the child Jesus, so that all who looked upon
Him loved Him, and began straightway to
love one another also, and blessed the day
when they saw the Babe of Bethlehem.
And finally he stopped and said: "Little
Theodosia, do you know the meaning of
Christmas?" Theodosia was silent, for she
knew that she had forgotten all this in her
eagerness for her own pleasure; but she
presently took courage, and said: "I know
it means that Christ is born into the world."
And the Christmas bells sounded, and
sounded, and seemed to say, "PEACE ON
By-and-by the angel stopped. at a low
cottage, and opened the door. They went
into the poor, cheerless room, but they were
not seen, for one cannot see the spirits of
heaven, when they choose to be invisible.
As for Theodosia, the angel covered her


with the corner of his robe. There was a
tallow candle dimly burning on the table,
and a pale woman sat by it, sewing fast on a
piece of work she had risen early to accom-
plish. A little boy, crying silently from
cold and hunger, had crawled from his
miserable bed in the corner, and was trying
to light a fire of chips and cinders gathered
in the street. And the pale woman lifted
her eyes to heaven, murmuring over and
over again, as if it were the only prayer she
could remember, Give us this day our
daily bread." Theodosia had never heard
of such misery before; all her little troubles
melted away from her mind, and she
thought, "0 why can I not do something
to help these poor people!" She could not
bear to wait until she could ask the king to
help them. Just then she looked down,
and behold the bag had opened a little way
Sof itself, and she saw the gleam of silver
money in it. In an instant, and before it
shut tightly as before, without stopping to


think, she scattered a handful of the money
in the room. But wonderful to tell, the sil-
ver shower never struck the floor, but
seemed to vanish in mid-air; and lo! a
bright fire went leaping up the chimney,
and on the table was food in plenty, and the
little boy and his happy mother were thank-
ing God, and blessing their unknown bene-
factor. Theodosia felt happy, too; and as
the angel led her away, she thought the
Christmas bells were saying: NAKED, AND
Presently they found themselves in an up-
per chamber, in another part of the city. It
was broad daylight now. There were a
dozen little children in the room, with scraps
of newspapers and one or two tattered books,
from which they were learning to read and
spell. And in the midst stood the teacher,
a poor young factory-girl, who taught the
little ones of the neighborhood every morn-


ing at daybreak, before going to her work,
because she would not let them go ignorant
for want of her help. And Theodosia heard
her say, Now, let us get through with our
lessons quickly, and then we will all go and
have a Christmas holiday, looking at the fine
things in the stores and the pretty ladies on
the street. Who knows-perhaps the king
and the queen and the princess may ride
by!" When Theodosia heard that, she
thought, How I should like to help these
little ones They have no pleasure but in
looking at the pleasure of other people!"
And the bag opened half-way of itself, and
she saw there was gold in it. For a moment
she hesitated, saying to herself, "With this
gold I could buy myself the necklace of
pearls that I wish so much to have!" But
just then the bag began slowly to shut up
again, and she gave one look at the little
children, and quickly drew from it all the
gold, which she scattered in the room. And
the room changed by magic into a beautiful


school-room, and the happy children were
wreathing it in green, and the teacher, no
longer a poor factory-girl, but a fair and
gentle woman, was just about to distribute to
them their Christmas gifts, and Theodosia
wished so much to stay ; but the angel drew
her away. When they were once more in
the street, the angel said, Do you know the
secret now ?" And Theodosia said nothing,
but the Christmas bells rang out:

"Not what we get, but what we give,
Makes up our treasure while we live !"

This time the angel lifted her from the
earth, and carried her swiftly over the whole
land, and over many other lands. And she
saw how many people there were who did
not yet know what Christmas meant; yes,
many thousands of them had never heard of
Christ who was born in Bethlehem. And
her heart, that was so warm now with the
Christmas love, could not bear to think of so
much sin and sorrow ; and this time she put


her hand on the lock of the bag, saying to
herself : If there is any more of the magical
money in it, I will throw it down upon
this poor, unhappy, wickedworld." The bag
opened very easily, but there was nothing in
it save a magnificent necklace of pearls In
vain she looked for silver and gold; she must
either give up the necklace of pearls or no-
thing. So she took one look more at the
beautiful gems, and then flung them down
upon the earth; and the necklace broke as
it fell, scattering the pearls far and wide-
and where every pearl fell, behold there
arose by magic a church or a mission-school,
and'in all languages were heard the songs of
thanksgiving from children and from old
people. And the angel said to her: "Now
see, your bag is empty ; are you not sorry ?"
But she looked straight into his kind eyes,
and said, I have found the secret now!"
And the Christmas bells rang out, "IT is
Then the angel caught her to his bosom


with great joy, and flying swiftly through the
air, he brought her back to the palace of the
king; and lo! in the great hall were all the
gifts still piled, and the king and the queen
had not yet come. So he carried Theodosia
to the place where her name was, and be-
hold! when she looked, there lay the black
bag wide open and full of gifts innume-
rable, and on each gift some curious inscrip-
tion. A beautiful bouquet of flowers bore
the words, "These are the prayers of the
poor;" and upon a crystal goblet, "The dis-
ciple's reward ;" but most lovely of all was
the necklace of pearls that hung from the
tablet, every pearl bearing a single name,
like Patience, Gentleness, Truth, Innocence;
and three pearls larger than the rest, and on
the largest pearl, which was the very copy
of the starry one upon the angel's brow, she
read, "The greatest of these is Charity."
Then she knew what was the true name of
the Christmas angel; and he vanished away
and she saw him no more. And she saw


also, that the black bag was like her own
heart, which, when closed to charity, was of
no use; but when opened for the sake of
others, grew richer in treasure all the time.
And the Christmas bells rang once more:-
"GOD SO LOVED THE WORLD !" and again,
May the Christmas angel dwell with
every one of us, round and round the whole



ITTLE Philip went to bed early,
Sthe night before Christmas, be-
r,,g cause he was so tired of waiting.
As he lay in his trundle-bed, he
thought how the mornings come first in
the east, and move with the sun over land
and sea, while the nights follow after, but
never can catch them. "I guess Christmas
has come already to some of the little
children across the sea," thought Philip
to himself, "and he is hurrying this way
as fast as he can. I hope he will not be
tired and stop before he gets to me!"
Meanwhile Philip grew sleepier and sleepier,


and at last his bright little eyes shut so
quickly that you could almost hear them
Then the door softly opened, and in
came a queer little fellow with wings. Did
you ever see a Dream ? Nobody ever
did, to my knowledge. They are cunning
chaps, and they never come near you until
you are too fast asleep to see them. Day-
dreams belong to a different family, and
are not good for much. The most curious
thing about real, useful dreams is, that they
visit everybody, and carry people every-
where, and show them all sorts of pictures,
and tell them all sorts of stories; and when
they are gone, people wake up and rub
their eyes, and find themselves just where
they were when they fell asleep, and won't
believe they have been anywhere, or seen
anything. This Dream that I speak of
stole across the room and held one hand
over Philip's eyes, to keep them shut,
while he whispered in his ear, Come! let


us go to the Great House where the Days
live !" With that he lifted Philip out of
bed, and away they floated through the win-
dow, and over the hills, and the rivers, and
the great sea, higher and higher, until they
came into the clouds; and right in the
middle of Cloudland they came to the Palace
of Days.
That was a splendid hall! It was so large
that you could scarcely see from one end to
the other; and there were three hundred
and sixty-six beds in it, and tables and chairs
in proportion, one for every day in the year.
This is where the Days lived, when they
were not at work on the world. Every Day
took his turn once a year, and generally got
so tired walking round the world, that he
went straight to bed as soon as he got back,
and slept till his turn came again. Great
sleepers, I tell you!" said the Dream to
Philip, "but they don't sleep very soundly.
What they call History down there in the
world is nothing but the echo of these old


fellows, snoring and muttering in their
sleep." Sure enough, there were most of the
Days in bed, with their names above their
heads. There was the First of April, with
a fool's cap for a night-cap, and the Fourth
of July, with a star-spangled banner for his
bed-quilt; and there was the Twenty-third
of December, a short, little fat fellow-the
shortest dcay in the year. He had only just
got home, had his supper and gone to bed.
The next bed was empty; for the Twenty-
fourth of December was out on his travels.
One lively fellow came up to Philip and
said, "I'm the Twenty-ninth of February!
I march only once in four years, so you see
I'm quite fresh. I have nothing to do till
1872. If you want to ask questions, I'm
your man !" Then Philip asked what the
Days did while they travelled round the
world. "Why, don't you know?" said the
Twenty-ninth of February. We walk by
the side of the Sun; and while he holds his
great lantern to light the world, we scatter


the gifts of the King in all countries, and
remember everything that we see, to tell it
to the Recorder. There he sits." Then
Philip looked, and saw a man sitting behind
a great book, and writing all the time.
Everything that ever happened was written
in that great Book of the King, and the Re-
corder neither rested, nor grew weary. In-
deed, he could not pause, for things kept
happening all the time.
Presently a messenger with a torch ran
swiftly through the hall, and, stopping by
one of the beds, touched the Day who was
sleeping there.
"That is the Morning Star," said the
Twenty-ninth of February. "It is his
business to wake the days. He is come for
Christmas now. The Twenty-fourth-Christ-
mas Eve, we nickname him-will be in
presently, and one goes as the other comes;
else, something might happen that we did
not see."
Christmas, a cheerful old man, with a


long white beard, made haste to rise and
get ready for his journey. He nodded
kindly to Philip, and put out his hand, say-
ing, Would you like to go with me? A
long road, but pleasant. Nobody has so
pleasant a road as I have!"
Philip loved him at once; so bidding
farewell to his new acquaintance, and cast-
ing one look at the solemn Recorder, who
was just beginning a new page, he took the
old man's hand, and they went out of the
palace together. At the threshold they
met another old man coming in. "Ah,
brother Christmas," said he, "I have left
fine weather for you! The world is getting
old and dirty; but I carried along a bag
full of snow, and whitened it wherever I
could!" and with that he hurried in to tell
his story to the Recorder, and then to sleep
for another year.
A moment more, and they met the Sun.
He was not tired. The Sun and the Re-
corder never are tired. What a glorious


face he had! and the light in his hand was
so brilliant, that it shone for millions of
They began their journey far away in the
east, where all the people bowed down
and worshipped the Sun, but paid no atten-
tion to Christmas. "That is because they
do not know me yet," said the old man.
"When they know me, they will welcome
us both as friends, but worship the King
only. Every time I travel through this
part of the world, I look to see if any one
has taught them better. I could tell them
a story, if I had time, that would open
their eyes to the truth, and make them
happy and wise. Bat my business is only
to see what happens, and tell the Recorder.
Some time. or other, I shall have it to tell,
that all men know me, and worship the
King. That will be the best news! The
Recorder will stop writing for very joy; but
not until then."
As they came westward with the Sun,


they heard everywhere the sound of chiming
bells; and crowds of people were seen,
greeting each other merrily and with good
wishes, and gathering to give thanks to the
King. The face of Christmas brightened,
and the Sun made his light as clear as it
could be. These are all friends of mine,"
said Christmas, and they worship the King.
Every time I come, I find more and more of
them. It was not always so-for thousands
of years I was not Christmas at all. The
time when I got my name was the happiest
time of my life; and the story that I told the
Recorder then, is written on the most beau-
tiful page of his book, and the King reads
it very often. That was the time when the
Prince Emanuel came down into the world
with me. Ever since then I have been
Merry Christmas. Do you not think I have
good reason to be glad that I, of all the
Days in the Palace, should bring the Prince
into the world, and hear the angels sing
Peace on Earth, and Good-will to men !"


While they were thus talking, they
passed swiftly over many lands, and every-
where the people welcomed them with
great joy. The merry smiles of Christmas
were reflected in all faces. The chiming of
the bells, and the shouts and laughter of
the children, and the greetings of neighbors
and friends, and happy thanksgiving to the
King, filled the air with music. Everywhere
the temples and houses were wreathed with
green boughs and crosses, and stars of
green were set up to remind men of the
Prince Emanuel, and the bright morning
star that shone over Bethlehem. Old
Christmas grew merrier and merrier. He
laughed and sang, and scattered gifts
among the people; and they, in their
gladness, gave to one another and to the
poor; but sweeter than the loudest glee was
the tone in which the old man everywhere
said, Remember the Prince and the King,
and the Glad Tidings." Then they crossed
the great sea; and Christmas went on board


of every ship they met to bless the sailors,
and to say, "Remember who made the
storm to cease. The Prince was once a
sailor too !"
At last they reached the shores of the
new land in the West. It was covered with
snow, so pure and white that it looked like
the new page on which the Recorder will
one day write that all men know and serve
the King. Presently Philip saw the house
where he lived; and before he could bid
Christmas good-bye, that mischievous little
winged Dream, which had been with him
invisibly all the time, lifted him lightly and
flew with him right through the window
into his own room. And, lo! his mother
stood by him, saying, Wake up, little boy!
Christmas is here."
"0 ho!" said Philip, "I guess I know
that! I have been round the world with
Whether he really had 'been journeying
or not, I should like to see the philosopher


who could tell. But one thing I know, that
I mean to do all I can to spread the Glad
Tidings, so that, very soon, Father Christ-
mas, in his travels round the world, shall
find that all men know him and worship the
King; when the Recorder shall cease
writing for very joy; and the mirth, and
love, and charity of Christmas shall fill also
every day in the whole year.

ciy^^T^XaI -




S- -- story is not merely a true one.
'1 S..me people seem to think that if
S a thing really happened, that is
reason enough for telling it; but I
am not one of them. This story is truer
than true. It applies to everybody that
ever lived, from Adam down to our little
baby, who was born this morning at half-
past four-or, for that matter, down to our
baby's great-great-great grandchildren, if he
should ever have any. But if it applies to
everybody, then, according to the rules of
algebra, it applies to Felix Graham-and
that is an important point; for the very first


word in the story is his name, as you will
immediately see, unless you lose the place,
and can't find it again.
Felix Graham was thirteen years old, and
knew a great deal. I cannot tell you how
many things he knew, but among them were
skating, and snow-balling, and sliding down
hill, and spinning tops, and playing ball, and
flying kites, and turning summersets, and
shooting marbles. These accomplishments
are not very useful, perhaps, to grown-up
folks, but they are quite proper and neces-
sary to boys. Certainly Felix's mother had
none of them; so you perceive he knew more
than his mother, which is just what he
thought himself. These mothers are so
It was very provoking, therefore, when,
one Saturday, Felix was not allowed to go
skating because there had been a thaw, and
his mother thought the ice would be too thin
and weak. Didn't all the boys say it would
"bear ?" The thaw had spoilt the sliding,


too; and, to make matters worse, it began
to rain during the forenoon, so that Felix
was forced to stay in-doors altogether, and
see his holiday melt away like the snow in
the yard, without doing him any good. He
was sitting alone in the parlor, before the
blazing fire, in what he thought was a manly
attitude, with his legs astride of the chair-
seat and his arms folded upon the top of the
back; and as he looked into the fire, he
made up his mind that life was exceedingly
disappointing and disagreeable, and his mo-
ther very unreasonable. If she had let him
go skating, just as like as not it wouldn't
have rained at all. She began it, and now
it was too bad! Boys of thirteen years
often reason in this way. I think it comes of
turning too many summersets, and walking
too much on their hands.
All at once he saw the oddest little face
just at the tip-top of the dancing flame in
the fireplace; and looking closer, he thought
he perceived a body belonging to it. It


seemed like a man, viewed through the
wrong end of an opera-glass. Felix used to
take his mother's opera-glass and look at
his feet that way. If you never tried it, you
had better do so. It is highly extraordinary,
and makes you feel as if you had been
pulled like molasses candy. But this little
man was sitting with his knees drawn up
under his chin, and his hands clasped around
them, and seemed to be perfectly comfort-
able, although the fire kept tossing him up
and down, so that the eye could scarcely
follow him. Besides he was apparently
white-hot all over.
Hullo !" said Felix, who are you ?"
The small chap in the fire evidently an-
swered something, but he could not be
heard in the crackling and roaring.
"Come out of that," said Felix, "and
get somewhere where I can see you and
hear you!"
With one jump, the stranger flew out of
the fire-place, for all the world just like a


spark, and lit on the marble top of a table,
Gracefully leaning against a silver thimble
which happened to be there, he gradually
turned red-hot, and then bluish, finally
assuming natural colors, such as everybody
has. "Lucky I didn't light on a chair,"
said he, in a voice that sounded like a
trumpet, a long way off, "I should have
scorched it some, I promise you. Who am
I? I'm an Idea. Don't you know what
that is? Poor fellow; don't get an Idea
very often, do you?" and with that he
laughed like a baby's rattle.
I have Ideas a plenty, I tell you," said
Felix, rather vexed, "but I never saw one
"Yes," said the little stranger, with great
scorn, "you do have Ideas, but what Ideas!
Contemptible, ragged, surly, sour, selfish
fellows! See' em? Of course not. You
don't suppose such vagabonds would let you
see' em? But Isaw one sitting in your ear
a minute ago."


Felix put his hand quickly to his ear, at
which the merry fellow on the table gave
another shrill laugh, and shouted in his
silvery way, Oh, he's gone; those low
people never stay where one of our set
comes! Look at me! Do I look as if such
vile Ideas could associate with me ?" With
that he drew himself up to his full height,
which was about an inch, put his hand on
his hip, and began to grow red-hot again.
Felix did not know whether to be amused
or frightened; but he felt as though there
could be no danger from such a tiny oppo-
nent, unless, indeed, he should "fire up"
and go flying about like a spark; so he
addressed him in a respectful tone, at
which the little man's wrath slowly faded
away. "What makes you get so hot?"
said Felix. "That's our way," replied his
visitor. "We Ideas are not very powerful
unless we come hot. Sometimes we visit a
person to play with him or to put him to
sleep; and very often we get used to a


person and dwell with him almost all the
time. Then, of course, we don't make such
a fuss about coming : but when we under-
take to make a call where those vulgar,
selfish Ideas have been -t I, _.. then, I tell
you, we come hot. You see, about ten
minutes ago we got a telegram at the cen-
tral office, ., ;, _. 'Boy infested with wicked
Ideas, despises mother, grumbles at weather,
tired of life, says things are too bad.
Detail one respectable Idea instantly to
take possession of him.' That was the
dispatch; and they detailed me,'and you
had better believe I came hot. Rather !
That rowdy crew that had you when I
arrived are the worst gang I ever saw in
my life. They haven't gone far away, now;
they are waiting to see whether I take
.possession or not"
-:. i's ail nonsense!" said Felix; "how
are you going to get possession? What's
your name? Where did you come from ?
How long will you stay?"


"One question at a time," said the queer
little stranger. "But I'll answer them all
in my own order. As for my name, I am
called Cheerfulgratitude-not Cheerful with-
out the Gratitude, nor Gratitude without the
Cheerful. It's Cheerfulgratitude, all one
word, five syllables. Don't you try to sepa-
rate it in the middle; it can't be separated.
I came from the central office. If you
don't know where that is, ask your mother;
she'll know; she often sends messages there.
I am going to stay as long as I think best;
and that depends upon whether I get pos-
session of you. And I shall not tell you
how I mean to do that, for fear you will
spoil my plan. If you have any more ques-
tions, bring them along, and I'll answer
them! Only stop kicking your heels on the
floor, and turn around and sit up like a gen-
tleman. People that sit astride of chairs in
that way don't get any Ideas !"
Felix did as he was bidden, almost with-
out thinking, he was so interested in the im-


pudent, airy little wight on the table.
When he had turned himself, he got a better
view of his visitor than before, and noticed
him more closely, remarking his close-fitting
jacket, boots over his pantaloons, jaunty
cap, and bright, merry face. Why, you
are dressed just like me!" said Felix.
"That's our way," was the reply; "we al-
ways wear clothes like the people we stay
with. If I get possession of you, I shall not
only dress like you, but look like you-or,
rather, you will look like me, which is the
same thing, only a great deal better. Now,
what more do you want to know ?"
Felix had by this time almost forgotten
his discontent; but he remembered what he
had been thinking of when IMr. Cheerful-
gratitude made his appearance, and resolv-
ing not to give up so easily his belief that
he was an unjustly treated victim of Provi-
deace and his mother, he said, in tones that
were not half as mournful as he tried to
make them, "Well, then, if you know so


much, I wish you'd just tell me why no-
thing ever goes as I would have it, and why
I never have anything I want."
Poor little outcast boy," said the small
voice from the table, "he has no home, nor
friends, nor clothing, nor food, nor fire !"
"Oh, you know well enough what I
mean," said Felix; "I don't mean those or-
dinary things."
Ordinary!" said the Idea, very indig-
nantly. "I'll give you a taste of something
extraordinary!" And with that the fire
went out like a candle, without leaving a
single spark, and the wind and sleet came
down the chimney together. The window
flew open, and the storm raged around the
room as if it did not know the difference be-
tween in-doors and out. Felix began to
shiver with cold. There !" said he, what
did I tell you! now the fire is out. That's
always my luck."
But you have a good many things left
to be thankful for," said the voice from the


table, "food, and clothes, and home, and
"What's the use of talking that way?"
said Felix, half-crying; don't you see the
fire is out, and I am cold ?"
Very well," said Mr. Cheerfulgratitude.
"I suppose you know that people have no
right to any blessing until they have paid for
it in thanks," and instantly Felix found him-
self stripped of his fine warm clothes, and
sitting before the chilling fireplace and in the
drivirig storm, with nothing on his limbs
but a ragged shirt and pantaloons, which
barely covered him, but could not begin to
keep him warm. His suffering soon was
more than he could endure; and he would
have hastened to find his mother and get
relief from her sympathy and care; but he
recalled to mind how lately he had said that
he didn't want women interfering in his
affairs," and he was still too proud to con-
fess his need of her assistance; so he sat,
moaning and shivering, and felt that he was


the most miserable boy in the whole world.
" Nothing could be worse than this," he
murmured. But, alas! he soon found that
there were sharper pains than cold; for a
fierce hunger seized him, and he grew as
weak in one moment for the want of food,
as though he had been fasting for days.
Then his head began to ache, and dreadful
pangs to shoot through all his limbs. It
was not long before his pride gave way, as
his fortitude had done already, and he stag-
gered to the door, calling piteously, Mo-
ther !" But a voice close by his ear replied:
"The boy that was not content with his
mother's watchful tenderness, and thought
she was always spoiling his fun, must do
without a mother now. She is gone."
This was more terrible than all the rest.
Felix burst into loud crying, and almost for-
got his other sorrows in this overwhelming
one. He really did love his mother. All
boys do; though they frequently have queer
ways of showing it. You may think it


strange that Felix did not wonder how so
many afflictions could have come upon him
all at once, and at least suspect that they
were merely sent to try him, and to teach
him some important lesson. But Felix was
no nmore stupid than you or I, or everybody.
When we are in trouble, we only think of
the trouble itself; and if the minister tells
us that our sorrows are meant to do us good,
we find it very hard to believe, and very
likely feel that he has no sympathy, and
does not understand our case at all. So
Felix just threw himself on the floor, and
cried for his mother, and really was at last,
as he had fancied he was before, one of the
most miserable boys in the whole world. As
for little Mr. Cheerfulgratitude, who seemed
to have behaved not at all like his name, he
disappeared up the chimney, having done all
the mischief he could.
What would have become of Felix, if he
had been left alone much longer, I cannot
say. He felt that he could not bear his


dreadful lot, and, having exhausted himself
with *- i, ;I., lay still, with a crushed feeling,
as if the whole round world had been rolled
upon him.
Just then he heard a step in the room,
and a voice said, Why, my dear boy,
what are you doing here?" Oh, how gladly
he sprang up and threw his arms about
his mother's neck, sobbing again for joy!
" My darling, darling mother! you have
come back, and you won't go away to leave
me again, will you? I'll never be selfish
and disobedient to you any more; indeed
and indeed I will not !"
His mother could not understand such
a tempest of tears and joy; for she did
not know, as you and I do, the sufferings
through which he had passed. She only
said, "You are wet and cold; and you
must be hungry, too; for it is long past
dinner-time. Let me go for dry clothes,
and bring you something to eat. See, you
have let the fire go out, and the storm has


blown open the window and beaten upon
you. My dear child, you should be more
careful ; I fear you have caught a bad cold.
Your head is hot, and you seem to be in
But he answered, 0 no, it is not that;
I don't feel the pain nor hunger now-that
is, I would rather feel them than have you
go away. Do not leave me again!" And he
clung to her more closely than ever.
She did not ask him any questions just
then; but with gentle persuasion she over-
came his fears, and soon she had him wrap-
ped in warm, dry clothing, and placed before
him a tea-tray with such nice things upon
it as folks prepare for invalids. At first he
only watched her moving around him, and
repeated softly to himself, over and over
again, "How glad I am that I have such a
dear, sweet mother!" but he couldn't help
saying, as the warmth came back to him,
"How pleasant it is to have warm clothes!"
and as he began to enjoy his food, "I never


thought eating was such a blessing before !"
When he was quite comfortable, he said,
"Now, mother, let me tell you all about it."
His mother replied with a smile, "I
think I know pretty well already. You
dropped asleep here on your chair; and the
storm came in at the window, and wet you
through and through; and you fell upon the
floor, and had bad dreams!" And with
that she began to stir up the fire, and make
it burn again.
But Felix told her the whole story; and
as he told it, the moral of it came into his
mind all at once. He looked eagerly upon
the table and into the fire, saying : Where
is Mr. Ckeerfulgratitude? Oh, I wish he
would come back now, and take possession
of me! I see what it was all about; but I
will never be so wicked again. Those vul-
gar, discontented Ideas shall not stay with
Just then a white spark shot from the fire,
and Felix shouted, "There he comes, white-


hot!" But no; it was nothing but an or-
dinary spark; and, strange to say, Felix
never saw that Mr. Cheerfulgratitude again,
though he often sat in front of the fire and
watched for him. What do you suppose
was the reason? I'll tell you what I think;
for certainly I don't believe that nonsense
about its being all a dream. I think that
Mr. Cheerfulgratitude had really got posses-
sion of him, and dwelt in him; and people
cannot see what is inside of them, can they?
How absurd of course not.

";,'-'^. Ci?.^ ^~



--'HE sun goes down early into the
Si in the Norwegian winter days.
First his rays leave the smooth
bosom of the fiord, where the fish-
ing vessels lie, waiting for the summer
cruise; then the shadows creep up the
steep shores, and the glory dies out on. the
roofs of the traders' houses, and the great
warehouses, and the deep ravines where
the huts of the fishermen nestle. Still there
is a glcam of light upon the spire of the
little church that stands upon a ro&ky crag,
as near as possible to heaven; but presently


that, too, is extinguished, and then the sharp,
tall pinnacles of the coast keep the rosy
glow a little longer, until it glides away
from them to linger, last of all, upon the
snowy wastes and glaciers of Heligoland.
Nobody lives away up there but the wild
Laplanders and their reindeer. How they
live few people know; but when the fair
weather comes, they appear in the villages
of Norway, to buy what they need for their
wandering life, and then return into their
secret hiding-places. When the glory has
vanished from the topmost glacier, there is
nothing left but the memory of sunset in
the sky. After that, it is night in Norway,
and the streaming Northern Lights take the
place of the sun.
One Christmas night, there was a family
gathered in the great sitting-room of a
Norway house, as happily and comfortably
as though they lived in the fairest land and
beneath the warmest sky. Outside, the
house was not beautiful. It was built of


logs, painted red. The roof was made of
birchwood, and loaded with logs and heavy
stones to keep the fierce winds from tearing
it away. But within, the smooth white floor
of Norwegian pine, the ceiling painted with
blue and white stripes, a rug of reindeer
skin before the great brick stove, heavy
chests bound with brass, a tall old clock, a
spinning-wheel, long rows of bright tin ves-
sels on the shelves that ran around the walls,
and under these, verses of Scripture skilfully
painted-made a picture of peace and con-
tent. An old man sat in his arm-chair by
the stove; in another chair was the nurse-
she was old too; and two or three children
were gathered around her knee. One boy,
little Olaf, sat upon a low stool, close beside
her, holding her hand, and looking with his
blue eyes from beneath his yellow hair, up
into her face. The mother was by her wheel,
just making ready to spin; and the children
were waiting for the old nurse to begin a
Christmas story. Just as they all looked at


one another and whispered, "Now it is
going to begin," there came a knock at the
door, and the white-haired pastor entered,
stamping the snow from his feet, and shak-
ing it from his fur coat and cap. God's
peace be with you!" said he, in the simple,
hearty Norway fashion; and the children all
rose and made obeisance to him. Then
they quickly dropped again into their
places, for they longed to hear the Christmas
story of the nurse. So when the pastor's
kindly greetings were over, and he had taken
his seat by the side of the grandfather, the
nurse in low tones began her story. As
she told it, the wind roared outside; but
the children did not care for that. Neither
were they disturbed by the whirr of the
spinning-wheel; they had only eyes and
ears for the nurse and her story. The mo-
ther stopped spinning now and then, to catch
a word or two; and the two old men looked
on and nodded to one another, as much as
to say: This is Christmas as it should be,


full of peace and good will! Little Olaf
listened best of all, with such earnestness
and sweet seriousness, that the pastor,
watching him, said to the old man more
than once, "Verily, the blessing of Christ-
mas rests upon the child !"
Now this was the story of the old nurse,
by the coast of the wild North Sea :
"Hundreds of years ago, when the Christ-
child was born in Bethlehem, the angels
were gathered from every part of the
universe; and they came in shining troops,
more numerous than any one could count,
swiftly flying together at the news of the
Glad Tidings. Only those wicked angels
who had rebelled against God could not
bear to come, but hid themselves in the
dark corners of the earth; and the good
angels whose business it is to trim the wicks
of the stars and keep them burning, could
not leave their posts of duty; but by the
bright light of their lamps they saw afar off
what took place in Bethlehem, and sang


together for joy, just as they had sung once
before, when God first lit the morning stars.
And one of them was permitted to come,
with his star in his hand, and hover over
the place where the young child lay. He
was a noble and beautiful being, so dazzling
and pure that the other star-angels veiled
their faces and hid their lamps for a mo-
ment as he passed swiftly by. None of
them knew him. For ages and ages he had
kept his post on the farthermost edge of
the universe, a sentinel, beyond the path of
any other spirit. No one saw the splendor
of his star; yet he kept it burning brightly,
with as much care as if it were the only light
of heaven. God knew that he was faithful,
and that was enough for him; and so it came
to pass, that when a herald was needed for
the coming of the Lord, behold this farthest
angel flashed through the spaces of the
sky, outshining all the rest. Even wise
men, that had watched the heavens all
their lives, took notice of him, and followed


over the desert, night and day, the path of
his streaming glory, to the Land of Promise;
and the other angels, guided by his light,
gathered above the fields of Bethlehem.
When that night was over, lie went straight-
way back again to keep watch beyond the
celestial hosts, and to show to .. 1. ;,,,
lost stars, their pathway home. No hmnan
eye has seen him since; but one day he
shall appear again, to light with spotless
radiance the second coming of the Lord.
Yet, strange to say, the beams he shed on
that one journey have never quite died out.
They glanced on land and sea; they were
reflected from icy mountain-tops and fields
of snow, and from the faces of men, turned
upward; and from that day to this it has
never been so dark anywhere as it used to
be. The light of the Star of Bethlehem is
scattered everywhere; but most it loves to
rest, at sunrise and at sunset, on the bright
tips of church-spires. When it is not there,
it nestles often in the eyes of little children,


reminding us how tenderly its lustre fell
upon the young child Jesus.
"Now, when the angels came together to
rejoice that Christ was born into the world,
they heard the voices from the stars, and
they broke out into the same song. 0 what
a choir and what a song was that! If only
all the people on earth, and all that were
to be born afterwards, and you and I, had
been there to hear! But, alas! when the
song was done, and the multitude of singers
cast their eyes upon the fields beneath, there
were only a few shepherds, tending their
flocks, who hardly knew what all this celes-
tial music meant. Then the angels looked
sorrowfully at one another, and said, 'Is it
not strange that we have gathered with so
much joy from the whole universe, to sing
" Peace on earth and good will to men," and
the earth is silent, and men are asleep!
The very ones to whom the precious boon
is given, care nothing for it!' So they took
counsel together, and finally they chose


four angels, the angels of the North and
the South and the East and the West, to
carry the glad tidings to all men. And
then they parted, each to his place of duty,
while the four messengers addressed them-
selves to their work.
The two that went to the North and the
West found many that listened gladly, and
as fast as men heard their message, they
told it to one another, and so lightened the
task of the heavenly heralds. But he that
went to the East made but slow progress;
and as for the angel of the South, he has
been flying wearily for many years over the
wide sea, and pausing here and there on
continents and islands, finding almost no
one that is willing to give him a hearing.
"And so it happens that in the North
and West all men have heard that Christ is
come; but in the East and South there are
millions yet who neither know of him, nor
care to know. But we of the North and
West are trying to help the angels in their


holy work, sending out good men and women
to teach the heathen the way of life; for we
are in haste for the day when the multitude
of the heavenly host shall be called again
together, and the four messengers shall come
flying from the North and the South and
the East and the West, and say, 'Our task
is done.' And then from afar shall we hear
the rushing wings and see the flaming torch
of the sentinel angel-the angel of Beth-
lehem, coming once more upon his glorious
errand. The chorus of praise will -be
louder than ever then; for it will be joined
by all mankind-no longer asleep and care-
less, but awake and full of joy, as they
welcome the second advent of the Lord."
This was the story told to a little boy, one
Christmas day, in the snowy land of .Nor-
way, by his good old nurse. The Norway
people get strange fancies into their heads in
the long nights of winter; but I think this
fancy had a good deal of truth in it-don't
you ? At any rate, little Olaf did not for-


get it; and when he grew old enough to
know the truth from the poetry, he still
thought it would be a noble work to go to the
islands of the great South Sea, and spread
among the poor heathen tribes the know-
ledge of the dear God who sent his Son to
live and die for men. And so this Christ-
mas in the North, when the old nurse told
him of the angels at Bethlehem, was the
cause of another Christmas in the South,
when the old nurse had long since been
taken to the angels, and the little boy him-
self had become an old, gray-headed man.
Let us look at the picture of that other

THE blue waves of the Pacific broke into
white foam along a low coral reef, that pro-
tected the shores of a lovely island. Be-
hind the reef were the fisheries, where the
natives used to dive for the pearl-oysters.


Close down to the edge of the land, dipping
their roots into the very water, grew the
stately cocoa-palms, their green plumes nod-
ding and waving in the sea-breeze, for the
long morning calm was just over. As their
branches swayed to and fro, they revealed
clusters of brown nuts, with innumerable
white blossoms that were going to be cocoa-
nuts by-and-by. The rustling of the palms
was the only sound that broke the stillness.
High overhead their green arches covered
the place, letting the sunlight through in
golden streams and spots, while their slen-
der stems upheld the wondrous roof, like
pillars in some strange, lovely temple.
Along the shore no human being was to
be seen. The pearl-fishers had left their oc-
cupation, and no trace of them remained.
The coral gleamed through the clear water,
fish swam about undisturbed by the shadow
of a passing keel, and turtles sunned them-
selves unvexed upon the sandy beach. One
would have thought this island paradise yet


undiscovered by man. But suddenly was
heard the sweet sound of a bell, ringing
afar off in the island. It was a church bell;
and as its tones died away, a chorus of hu-
man voices, softened by the distance, fol-
lowed them. It was the sound of C'lI1-i.,ti
worship, and the sweet melody was a Christ-
mas hymn.
Not like the peaceful evening in the
Norway home was this Christmas noon in
the South Sea. A very different picture,
yet not less fair. A great multitude of
dusky islanders are gathered in a rustic
cathedral. The sides of the building are
open, and the perfumed breeze floats lightly
through. The lofty roof is thatched with
leaves, and rests upon shafts of the slender
palm. But the strangest thing in the church
is the middle aisle, through which a crystal
brook flows musically on its course from the
green hills to the sea. Three bridges cross
it at different points, and on either side of it


the mats are spread, upon which the con-
gregation sit.
The South Sea islanders love the running
water; they have no great rivers in their
little realms, and so they cling with all the
more affection to the brooks; and even in
the sanctuary they are glad to mingle their
songs of praise with those songs which
Nature is ever sounding to the glory of God.
The natives, usually so vivacious and rest-
less, even in church, are very silent to-day
-for the good Father Olaf, he who came
many years ago to their savage land, and
taught them with loving words and patient
example to put away their heathen worship
and dark superstition, who conquered their
hatred with gentleness, who showed them
many useful arts, and made them live, at
last, in such peace and comfort as they had
never known before-above all, who has
told them many times the story of Christ
who was born in Bethlehem, and crucified
on Calvary, and melted .their hard hearts


into gratitude to the Redeemer of the world
-Father Olaf has come to meet them this
Christmas day, for the last time. He is
lying, supported with cushions, upon a bed,
placed where he has so often stood in the
days of his strength and.preached to the
people. He cannot stand now; he is too
weak for that; but he seems to be invigor-
ated by the familiar sound of the brook,
and by the earnest, loving looks of the
people, all bent upon him, and waiting to
catch his words. With a peaceful smile he
has listened to the pealing chorus of the
Christmas hymn, and now he opens his lips
to speak. He does not seem to see the
people any more; his eyes behold, not
palms, but pines; not the flowing brook,
but the deep fiord, and the rugged moun-
tains, and the snow-fields tinged with the
glory of the sun. He is no longer white-
haired Father Olaf, but little Olaf with blue
eyes and golden hair, sitting by the side of
the nurse in the winter night of Norway.


And with low voice he recites to the won-
dering people a strange legend of angels
flying through the world with glad tidings,
and preparing all men for the second
coming of the Lord.
A wonderful story it is, not like the simple
talk that Father Olaf is wont to use-or only
like it as a dream is like what men see
with their eyes open. Eagerly the people
listen; and when they hear of the Angel of
the South, give thanks to God through their
tears that the good news he bore has come
at last to them.
The old man falters; he ceases to speak;
but while they strain their weeping eyes to
see him, and a few spring forward to offer
assistance, he sits erect, with new vigor,
stretches out his trembling hands, and pro-
nounces in the Norway tongue the homely,
hearty Norway greeting: "God's peace be
with you!"--and in the midst of those he
had served so well, Father Olaf yielded his
spirit unto Him for whose sake the service


had been freely given. The face of the dead
was like the pure, earnest face of a little child
-the child who heard the Christmas legend
by the wild North Sea. And the people,
looking upon it, said in their simple love
and faith-" This was the Angel of the
Truly, among God's angels upon earth are
those brave, gentle, holy men that do His
will, bearing His gospel through the world.
And when He shall come again in His glory,
whether the starry rays that fell on Bethle-
hem shall once more light the sky, we do
not know; but this we know, that in the
bright procession of His triumph the spirits
of such as Father Olaf shall flash celestial
radiance: for they that turn many to right-
eousness shall shine as the stars forever and




f lHIS is a story of strange old times,
en beasts and birds could talk-
,' ,- they can still, for all I know-
and men (that is to say, children)
could understand what they said, which I
regret to confess has now become impossible.
There are a great many respects in which
the world has improved, no doubt; but the
fact is, the locomotives and factories and
water-wheels keep up such a clatter that we
cannot hear any more what flowers and
winds whisper, or birds gossip about among
the leaves in the sociable twilight, or cattle
gravely discuss between meals. Things
have changed and do change wonderfully in
5 (65)


this world, and it is a comfort to remember
that goodness and kindness and happiness
do not alter-as you will see, dear children,
from the story of Karl the Fiddler.
Once upon a time, between the age of
Abraham and the election of Gen. Grant,
there was a boy whose name was Karl, and
he fiddled for a living. He used to play
such lively tunes, and nod his head so gaily
while he played, that no one could hear
him without desiring to dance; and when-
ever he had played for five minutes, you
could hear al] the toes and heels of the
audience rapping out the tune. He was
accustomed to travel from one place to an-
other, and to pay for his lodging and his
meals with his violin. He was welcome
everywhere. When the children of any
village saw him coming along the road with
his green ., they used to leave their play
and run to meet him; and the old women
that sat spinning in the dborways, and the
old men that were smoking their pipes in


the sun, greeted him kindly. The pastor,
who was a white-haired man and loved all
children, but especially good ones, often
said that Karl was the best boy he knew,
for he was honest and industrious, and kind
to all. "He deserves," said the pastor, "to
be rich as the Baron, powerful as the
Emperor, and happy as a lark at sunrise."
Then Karl would laugh and answer, I
want nothing of your Barons and Emperors.
As for the lark, he and I know one another
already. I often watch his nest in the
morning, when the lady-lark and all the
little larks make the beds and put every-
thing in order, while he flies up into the
dawn and sings down to them how beauti-
ful is the world. I understand their lan-
guage, too; for every one who lives twelve
years without doing harm to any living
thing, will have his ears open to hear what
birds and beasts and trees say. And I
heard the wise mother-lark say to the little
ones yesterday, when they had finished re-


citing their lessons, Take note of this, my
children, for in this we are more sensible
than men. To be rich is to have food and
shelter; to be powerful is to do good; to be
happy is to love all things and sing."
So you see," Karl would add," according
to the philosophy of the larks, I am rich and
powerful and happy. Only I do not sing;
but my violin does that for me." Then he
would go merrily on his way.
One day, in the middle of winter, Karl
left the inn where he had spent the night
before, to go to the great city, miles away,
beyond the woods. The guests all came to
the door to bid him farewell, and the storm
seemed so dreadful to them that they said,
"You must not go to-day, Karl; you will
never find your way through the wood. You
will never get there alive." But he shook
his curly head, laughing and saying, "The
cold world is a warm world to me ; I am not
afraid." Then the landlady put a little
bundle of food in his hand, for fear he might


lose the path and be hungry; and he slung
his green bag over his shoulder, and went on
his way. The winds blew terribly, and as
they rushed by him he heard them say, "Is
that you, Karl? We are very sorry to
knock you about so roughly, but the fact is
we are on a race from the North Pole to the
Equator; and we have taken such a long
start, and got a-going so fast, that we can't
stop. Next summer we'll come back and
play with you among the roses." And with
that, away they went, so fast that Karl
could not answer them. The snow fell
furiously, so that he could hardly see; but
as the crystal flakes went by, he heard
them whisper, "We are so sorry, Karl, to
get in your way; but the fact is, we were
sitting just now on the edge of a cloud up
there, and those rough winds came by and
jostled us, and we fell off; and we have been
falling so far that we cannot stop." Karl
laughed and said, "No matter; next sum-
mer I shall find you in the brook, and we'll


have good times with the frogs and speckled
Presently he got into the wood. There
the wind was not so strong, but the snow
was very deep. Before long lie knew that
he had lost his way. At first he was not
frightened, but went bravely on, expecting
soon to get out of the forest. At last it be-
gan to grow dark and he was very cold and
tired; so he sat down in the snow, by the
side of a great tree. But the snow was so
deep that he sunk in out of sight. So he
worked away till he had scooped out a little
cave in it. Into that he crawled, and ate the
supper which the good landlady had given
him. After supper he felt both numb and
sleepy; and, as he did not know how to get
any warmer, he thought he would go to sleep.
Just as he was almost asleep, he heard the
snow-crystals whispering to him, Karl,
Karl! do not sleep here! We are doing
our best to keep you warm; but the close
we keep to you, the colder you grow, and we


fear we shall freeze you to death !" When
Karl heard that, he resolved not to sleep.
so, to keep himself awake, he took out his
violin and began with his numb fingers to
play a lively tune. Was not that a strange
thing-a boy playing a tune on the violin,
at the bottom of a snowdrift, in the middle
of a forest, on a stormy winter's night!
Not half as strange as the next thing that
happened; for just as he was growing so
faint with cold that he could not play much
longer, a big, gruff voice said, Karl, is that
Karl scrambled out of his cavern, and
looked about in vain to see who had spoken.
There was nothing but the silent trees,
reaching up from the white snow to the
black sky, like pillars on a marble floor,
holding up an iron roof. Presently the
voice said again: "Karl, come in and get
warm !" And this time it certainly came
from the tree near which he had been lying;
but it could not be the tree that spoke, for


the voice used not tree-language, but ani-
mal-language, which is as different as can
be ; and besides, in the winter the trees are
so cold that they cannot talk at all, but only
shiver and chatter their branches, as people
that are cold chatter their teeth. While he
looked at the tree and wondered what this
could mean, he saw that it was hollow, and
the hole at the bottom was stopped with a
great snow-ball; but the snow-ball was
strangely agitated, as if trying of itself to
get away. He ran to the spot, and helped
with all his might; and when the ball was
a little moved, so that he could pass by, he
crawled into the hole with his violin as
quickly as he could, and the ball rolled
back into its place.
Now who should be in the tree but a bear
-a great black bear-who growled out very
kindly to him, with a long yawn, You have
spoiled my winter nap for me, Karl; I
haven't slept more than six weeks, and here
you come fiddling under my very nose !


Well, never mind! I'm glad to meet you
again. Here, ni 1-.-: up, and warm your-
self. I haven't forgotten how good you
were to me, when you played the violin for
me to dance in the menagerie."
They had a great deal to say about old
times, but unfortunately they did not say it;
for just as the bear was about to relate how
he happened to forsake the menagerie
business and take to the woods, he gave a
great snore, and went to sleep for the rest
of the winter. That is a most remarkable
thing. I have often seen people go to sleep
while I was talking, but never when it was
their own turn. But bears are peculiar;
and Karl, understanding their ways, nestled
close to his old friend and fell asleep himself.
In the morning he slipped out, without dis-
turbing the bear, and found the storm was
over. Stepping lightly on the tops of the
drifts, he found his way before long out of
the wood, and at last, into the great city.
Now the king of that country was a ter-


rible tyrant. Every one knew it but himself;
and as no one dared to tell him, and he was
not acquainted with any other kings who
could set him a good example and make him
ashamed of himself, he actually considered
himself the best and wisest of manlind.
Every day he held a court in the great hall
of his palace, and executed what he called
"justice." He would listen to each case
that was brought before him, until he either
understood the matter, or (what was much
the same thing) got tired of trying to under-
stand it, and then he would either turn his
head from side to side, or nod it up and
down. If the first, the petition was denied,
and the petitioner was immediately removed,
to have his head cut off. If it was a nod,
the petition was granted, and the petitioner
hurried away as fast as he could, for fear
there was some mistake about it. In either
case, all was over in a few seconds; and as
the next applicant for justice was called in
directly, and no time was lost, the amount


of business the king would get through with
in one forenoon was something quite aston-
As Karl stood in the crowd at one side of
the great hall, looking on, the first case for
that morning was called. An E:_-4,.m
merchant came forward and fell at the feet
of the king, declaring his petition. He
claimed as his slave a poor girl, who was
also brought before the throne, but in chains.
The cruel merchant told a false story, but
he felt secure of triumph; for he had previ-
ously bribed the prime minister, and even
sent a handsome sacred cat from Thebes to
the king himself. This cat, which was now
walking about the hall, was pure white all
over, with flaming eyes. As it came near
Karl, he overheard it purring to itself, How
that villain lies I am not from Thebes at
all; and as for this poor girl, she used to
live in the same street with me,- and I know
she is no slave." When Karl heard that, he
was so impressed with the wickedness of


mankind, that, forgetting where he stood, he
gave a long whistle. Everybody turned that
way, to see who could be so daring-the
king among the rest; and the obedient
guards, who were already watching for the
slightest sign of the royal decision, when
they saw the king's head turn aside in
that style, at once.seized the Egyptian mer-
chant, d ,(11-.1 him out of the royal pres-
ence, and before he could have said Jack
Robinson (if he had tried to do so, which
he didn't) cut off his ugly head. As for the
poor girl, you may well believe she did not
stop long to see what had saved her.
But for Karl the situation was embar-
rassing. He thought he would try the
effect of a little fiddling upon the company;
and, just as the soldiers were about to take
hold of him, be began a lively tune. Every-
body was delighted; and the king above all,
who, in a few seconds, might be seen nod-
ding his head to keep time with the music.
Now the officers kept bringing in new cases


for judgment; and there was the king
nodding assent to every one. The first
was a distressed widow, asking protection
against her husband's brother; and she got
what she wanted so quickly that a host of
other afflicted and oppressed persons, who
had been afraid to come before the king,
crowded at the foot of the throne. That
was a great morning for business! By the
time the tune was over, and the king
stopped nodding, no less than two hun-
dred and seventy-three poor people had
got real justice done them.
A great shouting was then heard from
before the palace; and when the king went
out upon the balcony, lo, there was the
population of the city, full of gladness and
praise, because of the merciful and fatherly
conduct of their sovereign. This set the
king a-thinking. He wondered a first what
it all meant; but after several days of deep
meditation, he began to suspect that he
had been a tyrant and a fool. So he rang


the bell for the prime minister, and said to
him that his services were no longer required.
Then he rang again for the chief of police,
and to him he said, Bring me the fiddler !"
That's the way Karl the fiddler came to
be prime minister; but how on earth it hap-
pened. that the lovely, lovely daughter of the
king fell in love with him, and he with her,
I never could tell. Everything else can be
explained, in one way or another; but that
sort of thing is quite incomprehensible. It
is certain, however, that a few years after
the period to which I now allude, a portly
King Karl used to sit with his peerless
bride by his royal side; and a fair-haired
little prince used to write with great pains
in his copy-book the following excellent
maxim, composed, it is said, by his royal
sire :
"I am rich, but have only food and shelter ;
I ----.. i rl, but only to do good ;
Happy, but only because I love all things."






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