Citation
The bubbling teapot

Material Information

Title:
The bubbling teapot a wonder story
Creator:
Champney, Elizabeth W ( Elizabeth Williams ), 1850-1922
Satterlee, Walter, 1844-1908 ( Illustrator )
D. Lothrop & Company ( Publisher )
Place of Publication:
Boston
Publisher:
D. Lothrop Company
Publication Date:
Copyright Date:
1886
Language:
English
Physical Description:
266 p., [1] leaf of plates : ill. ; 19 cm.

Subjects

Subjects / Keywords:
Imagination -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Dreams -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
National characteristics -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Teapots -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Artists -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Artists' models -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Children -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Fantasy literature -- 1893 ( rbgenr )
Bldn -- 1893
Genre:
Fantasy literature ( rbgenr )
novel ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage:
United States -- Massachusetts -- Boston
Target Audience:
juvenile ( marctarget )

Notes

Summary:
Flossy Tangleskein changes back and forth from a bubbling teapot to a weeping girl as she imagines she is a child in the countries of the 24 paintings she modeled for Mr. Rose.
General Note:
Frontispiece: Mr. Rose looks suspiciously like James Whistler and Flossy Tangleskein is dressed in kimono similar to one in from "Caprice in Purple and Gold No. 2: The Golden Screen" by Whistler.
Statement of Responsibility:
by Lizzie W. Champney ; twelve illustrations by Walter Satterlee.

Record Information

Source Institution:
University of Florida
Holding Location:
University of Florida
Rights Management:
This item is presumed to be in the public domain. The University of Florida George A. Smathers Libraries respect the intellectual property rights of others and do not claim any copyright interest in this item. Users of this work have responsibility for determining copyright status prior to reusing, publishing or reproducing this item for purposes other than what is allowed by fair use or other copyright exemptions. Any reuse of this item in excess of fair use or other copyright exemptions may require permission of the copyright holder. The Smathers Libraries would like to learn more about this item and invite individuals or organizations to contact The Department of Special and Area Studies Collections (special@uflib.ufl.edu) with any additional information they can provide.
Resource Identifier:
026625098 ( ALEPH )
ALG3794 ( NOTIS )
214278430 ( OCLC )

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FLOSSY TANGLESKEIN IN MR. ROSE’S STUDIO.



THE BUBBLING TEAPOT

A WONDER STORY

BY
MRS. LIZZIE W. CHAMPNEY

Author of “ALi ARouND A PALETTE,” “IN THE SKY GaR
DEN,” “THREE VASSAR GIRLS ABROAD,” ETC,

‘TWELVE ILLUSTRATIONS BY

WALTER SATTERLEE

BOSTON
D. LOTHROP COMPANY
1893



Copyright, 1886,
by
D. Lorurop & Company.



CONTENTS.

“CHAPTER I,

PAGE

FLossy TAKES A JOURNEY. ‘ . . . 7
CHAPTER II.
In a CutnesE HOME . " . : . . 25
CHAPTER III. ,
THE LITTLE BRETON PEASANT a y 2 i 40
CHAPTER IV.
As A SPANISH GIRL Borie : gaa eure 56
CHAPTER V.
AT THE GYPSY QUARTER a b f 3 . 78
CHAPTER VL
THE BEST OF ALL . : i . . . . 97
CHAPTER VII.
‘THE CHILD’s PARADISE . 3 . . . . 15
CHAPTER VIII.
AMONG THE Lapps . 5 . . . . . 132
CHAPTER IX.
GOING TO THE MIssION . eet asic et hone 153

CHAPTER X.
“CasKET OF PEARLS” . : R ES 5 178
A CHAPTER XI.
Tye Caste SysTEM. . és 5 : . . 2i1-
CHAPTER XII.
THE SPELL IS BROKEN . ‘ . . . . 243







ILLUSTRATIONS.

PAGE
Flossy Tangleskein in Mr. Rose’s Studio - . Front.

Flossy Tangleskein as the Chinese Girl, Hi Ski. 31

Flossy Tangleskein as Babette, the little Breton
Peasant . : 3 s . : . : 45

Flossy Tangleskein as Bianca, the Spanish Girl . 69

Flossy Tangleskein as Katinka, the Granada
Gypsy Girl. 2 : 5 : a : 87

Flossy Tangleskein as Zobeide, the little Egyptian . 103
Flossy Tangleskein as an African Princess. : 123
Flossy Tangleskein as Gudrun, the Lapland Girl . 139
Flossy Tangleskein as the Brazilian Girl aces 159
“My precious Pomegranate Blossom,” she ex-

claimed . : ;: Saale : . . 193
Flossy Tangleskein as the Hindu Girl, Nourmahal . 219

Flossy Tangleskein as the little Roman Giovanina . 251






THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

. CHAPTER I.
FLOSSY TAKES A JOURNEY.

R. ROSE, whose studio was on the very top

floor of the apartment house opposite which

Flossy Tangleskein lived, wished Flossy to pose
for him.

He admitted that this was a great favor, but
among all the models of the city he knew of no little
face that would suit him so well, and as the fami-
lies were old friends he asked it as a special kind-
ness.

The studio had a great fascination for Flossy.
She had a queer notion that one day, when she
was a younger girl, and had played here with the
artist’s son Ruby, they had seen a pair of wonder-.

ful paint-bogies ; queer little elves who had told
7?





8 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

them stories and had made remarkable things
happen to them. Flossy had been laughed at not
a little for this belief but she still held it firmly, and
the studio seemed to her enchanted ground where
anything strange might happen. It was a year
since she had entered it, for when Ruby and she
had last played there they had made free with the
paints, and had dressed up in the costumes; and
since then Mr. Rose had not been prodigal of his
invitations to children. He was a nervous man,
and did not enjoy having them dash about among
his bric-a-brac, or stand too near his freshly-
painted pictures. Still Flossy cherished the mem-
ory of what she had seen in the room, how her
eyes had grown large with wonder and admiration
at the curious things with which it was filled.
There was a brilliant blue and yellow macaw
chained to a perch, which she liked to feed, offer-
, ing it lumps of sugar at a safe distance with a pair
of sugar-tongs, for the macaw had a vicious tem-
per. There were portfolios of sketches which she
would have liked ‘to rummage ; and stately gowns

which she would have enjoyed trying on. Alto-



FLOSSY TAKES A JOURNEY. 9

gether everything was different from the careful
propriety of their own parlor, and Flossy was |
tired of the sameness and commonplace of her
comfortable and quiet life, in which. nothing excit-
ing ever happened as in the story-books,

- “T wish,” she thought to herself, “that I had

been born some other kind of a child,

For I might have been a Russian,
A Frenchman or a Prussian,

Or even an Italian.
But in spite of each temptation,
To belong to another nation,

Iam only an American.”

It would have been a great deal more romantic,
she thought, to’ have been an Italian bambino in
wonderful Rome or Naples, far more interesting
to have been born among lotus blossoms, an
Egyptian child. There was a portfolio of Egyp-
tian photographs in Mr. Rose’s studio, but among
them one of a ruined temple with long colonnades
of columns with tulip-shaped capitals, and the
great, lazy Nile shimmering in the background.

No school bell could pierce the slumberous air;





10 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

there certainly was the Child’s Paradise. How
picturesque too, she might have been as a French
peasant in the happy vineyards of France. It
was as a Breton peasant child that Mr. Rose
wished her to pose. And he handed her a queer
little costume which he had brought back from
Pont Aven ; consisting of a rather long-skirted,
dull blue petticoat, a white waist with full sleeves,
a black velvet bodice and a queer little cap.
Flossy slipped these on in the dressing room, her
fluffy blonde hair escaped from the cap, covering
her shoulders, and Mr..Rose fastened about her
neck a silver chain with curiously formed links, and
gave her a clumsy pair of sabots or wooden shoes,
in which she found it very hard to hobble across
the studio. Then he showed her a sketch of the
picture which he wished to make — a little girl
guarding a flock of turkeys in a broad meadow;
in the distance loomed the pinnacled and gabled
roof of a grand French chateau.

When Flossy had taken the desired position
Mr. Rose began to paint, amusing her as he did

so with a legend of Brittany. The child’s head was



a ee eT Ta

FLOSSY TAKES A JOURNEY. It

quite turned, and she wished passionately that she

might have been a Breton peasant child. She was
so discontented with her hum-drum-bread-and-but-
ter-spelling-book, American child-life that she even
said to herself she would gladly change to a little
Zulu savage, or an almond-eyed Oriental like the
ones who were perpetually walking in the tea-
garden on the great embroidered screen.

Mr. Rose, like many another artist, was ex-
tremely fond of Oriental bric-4-brac, by which term
we mean all the bright and curious things we see
in the Japanese stores. He was a collector too,
as far as his purse would permit. A great Japa-
nese umbrella hung in the centre of his studio,
and, as Flossy said, gayajied the whole apartment.
The room was further brightened by a shelf of
Japanese and Chinese porcelain, and a screen
draped with costumes in Canton crépe and soft
silks of exquisite tints. Mr. Rose let her put on
one of these. It was a little brocade wrapper,
one side of which was sky-blue, and across it were

embroidered sprays and branches of blossoming

peach, and soft white storks, flying in long lines.



12 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

The other side of the dress was irregularly divided’
into purple and rose-colored spaces, the purple
figured in great golden dragons, and the rose in
kaleidoscopic patterns of mingling colors. It
was a very beautiful garment wadded and lined
with fine crépe of a pale saffron tint. It nearly
touched the floor, and Flossy thought she had
never seen any American child dressed half so
fine. Why was it that her mamma considered it
out of taste to wear ‘more than two colors at once,
when this gorgeous robe combined at least eight ?
She stepped before the mirror and lifted her arms
with the long sleeves. “I look like one of the
teapots up there on the shelf,” she said, laughing.
_“ You do indeed,” replied Mr. Rose, taking
down a beautifully enamelled Satsuma one and plac-
ing it on the table beside her. “Do you know,”
he continued, “that the Japs have a story about a
Bubbling Teapot, something like Aladdin and the
Wonderful Lamp? And it is not very strange that
there should be a similarity between the two, for
Aladdin is a Chinese story.”
“Tell me about the teapot, please,” said Flossy.



»

FLOSSY TAKES A JOURNEY. 13

“*J don’t quite remember it. It was a mess of
nonsense about a bubbling girl and a weeping tea-
pot. Every time the teapot cried it turned into a
boiling girl, and every time the girl bubbled she
turned into a weeping teapot.”

“T think you have mixed that up, something the
way my Grandma Tangleskein mixes sermons,”
Flossy remarked gravely. She remained perfectly
quiet for a few moments, her eyes fixed on a gilt
dragon which formed the handle of the teapot
with its contortions. ‘Then she glanced at her
right sleeve about which another golden dragon
writhed, and said slowly, “I wish I had been born
in the Arabian: Nights, and could change into a
pretty teapot.” Then she gave a little cry, but
Mr. Rose did not hear her for he had suddenly
rémembered a Cloisonné vase which was to be sold
that morning at auction at the custom house, for
non-payment of duty, and seizing his hat he rushed
out, hoping that he was not too late to secure it.

(First Transformation.)
Flossy’s scream was occasioned by a double cir-

cumstance. The teapot on the table grew limp and



*

14. THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

settled down into amass of silken drapery. It had
changed suddenly into the costume which Flossy
had been wearing. Atthe same time her right arm,
which she had raised to her head, stiffened, and she
was unable to lower it, the left, which she had ex-
tended involuntarily, was paralyzed in that po-
sition, and she felt her own form changing into a
dumpy round shape, while the silken dress hard-
ened into adamant, the tints and patterns only re-
maining the same. She looked at the mirror and
saw that her features were transforming, her head
sinking in, the eyes disappearing, the lips losing
themselves in a wrinkle until the change was com-
plete. She had become a teapot! Flossy laughed
merrily, the idea was so funny; but her laugh had an
unnatural gurgling sound like the boiling of water.

“ T wonder how long I shall stay so,” she said to
herself. “Until somebody tries to make tea in me,
I suppose. I wonder whether Mr. Rose will put
me over the gas-stove and make some for lunch.”
The idea was rather appalling, and she hoped that
he would not doso. She sat very quietly after that

looking at the other bits of porcelain and wonder:



FLOSSY TAKES A JOURNEY. 1§

ing whether they too were enchanted maidens, un-
til Mr. Rose flung open the studio door and strode
into the room in a manner which betokened tri
umph. He held in his hand the coveted vase, and
he had brought with him an almond-eyed, dark-
skinned stranger, who, although he was dressed
' like an American, was unmistakably a Japanese.:

“Yes,” Mr. Rose remarked, evidently continu-
ing a conversation, “I have already some nice bits
of the art of your country, which I shall be pleased
toshow you. Flossy! Whereis the child? Ah!
she has placed the costume on the table ; but how
careless in her to leave this teapot on the floor
(lifting Flossy by one arm as he spoke). Let me
see, where shall I put this? I must have my new
vase on the shelf, and really I have no room for
this little object now.”

“May I see it?” the strange gentleman asked, and
Mr. Rose placed Flossy in his hand. He looked
at her attentively turning her around slowly and not
taking any great interest in the other articles which
Mr. Rose showed him. Just as he was leaving he

asked, “‘ Have you ever made tea in this teapot ?”



16 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

“No,” replied Mr. Rose, “I feared I might in:
jure it.”

The stranger smiled significantly. “I need not
have asked,” he said, “you were quite right, you ©
would have had no teapot left. I sail to Japan to-
morrow, and have taken a fancy to this object,
will you sell it?”

“You may take it freely,” replied Mr. Rose,
“ and I shall in turn be obliged to you if you can
pick up for me something in the way of costume.”

The stranger bowed, and wrapping Flossy care-
fully, carried her away. She felt sure from what
he had said that he knew her secret, and she
looked forward with curiosity to future events.
Many days passed before Flossy was unwrapped.
When she saw the light once more she knew she
was in Japan. She recognized the funnel-shaped
mountain of Fusiyama, which she had seen painted
upon so many fans, and the storks that the Japan-
ese are so fond of repeating in their decoration.

She was placed upon a square of matting in a little
booth, and the stranger had stretched before her

a tight rope. He was lighting some charcoal in a



FLOSSY TAKES A JOURNEY. - 17

brazier, and when it was wellignited he spoke to
her.

“Bubbling Teapot,” he said, “I have found you
at last. Know that I am the magician, your former
owner. Know that I have travelled in search of
you over two continents, and having found you Iam
not likely to lose you again. For although it is in
your power, when a girl, by weeping to change your-
self into a teapot at any time when you are discon-
tented with your condition, you can only be changed
from a teapot to a girl again by being boiled over
a fire—and that I shall be careful not todo. Rise,
therefore, and dance upon the tight-rope as I taught
you to do in years past.”

He ceased, and began beating a drum. Flossy
was frightened, but would neither move nor speak.

“Dance, obstinate teapot,” commanded the ma-
gician, “or I will place you over this brazier!”

“ That is only an idle threat,” Flossy replied, for .
she found that she could speak, though only to the
magician and when he willed it; “for if you boil
me I will change into a girl.”

“Tf I dod you, yes — but if I give you no water



18 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

but simply burn you, no, ‘Will you dance or not?”

Flossy rocked from side to side in an agony of
fear, and seeing that she made an attempt to obey
him, the magician poised. her carefully upon the
tight-rope. Then tilting the teapot gently with his

_ finger he set it.to. swaying in time to his drum, and
alternately lifting either end of the rope he allowed
it to slide backward and forward. “ That will do,”
he said at length. “I see you have not forgotten.
I shall take you to-night to perform before a rich
daimio. Dance your prettiest, or, by the great Ti
Fun, I will not only burn you, but break you to
atoms.”

Flossy travelled with the magician for many
months. They performed at the country fairs sur-
rounded by the populace and at the court of grand
personages. The children especially were glad to
see the performing teapot and in the children
Flossy was most interested. They were all grave
little creatures ; the girls especially seemed to have
little to make life happy except upon the Feast of
Dolls which occurred but once a year. It was

natural that the children of the poor should have



FLOSSY. TAKES A JOURNEY. 19

their privations, but Flossy was shocked when she
sawone delicate little girl, the daughter of a rich
daimio, submitted to cautery, or the torture of hav-
ing little pith cones burned upon her flesh for some
trifling pain, for which Flossy would have received

a dose of homeopathic medicine. °
“T would not like to be’ a Japanese ‘child, but
if I could see China,” she ‘said to herself, “I am
sure that the mandarins’ children there, and the
little princes and princesses have better times.”
And strangely enough it happened that the ma-
’ gician was called upon to perform before a Chinese
lady of rank who was visiting in Japan. She was
the wife of a wealthy grandee as ugly as the horri-
ble two-toed dragons which were embroidered on his
robes as asure proof of his rank and consequence ;
but he was as kind and indulgent as he was ugly,
and his greatest happiness was to gratify the whims

_ of his beautiful wife.

Her name, which was a long one when translated,
signified “The Fair One, whose-nails are transpar-
ent as fish scales, as long and curling as the tendrils

of the vine, and as exquisitely tintéd as rose-leaves.”



20 THE BUBBLING.TEAPOT.

As this is rather too long a name to be mentioned
frequently, we will speak of her as The Long-
nailed Fair One. Her finger nails were indeed of
extraordinary length and were encased in beauti-
fully engraved silver shields. She was surrounded
with every luxury which Chinese art could execute.
The finest porcelain, the richest satins exquisitely

embroidered, elaborately carved teak-wood futni-

ture, lacquered ware and bronzes, vases of jade, .

statues of ivory, perfumes and dainties, and beau-

tiful flowers filled the rooms of the palace, and yet

the pampered little lady was not happy. She had ©

lost a little daughter and since that bereavement
had fallen intoa deep melancholy.

_ Her husband, hoping to distract her, had taken
her on a journey to Japan and here everything that
was curious or remarkable was shown her. She
had the finest singers and dancers among her

women, and everything that it was possible for

them to devise was done to enliven her spirits, but ©

allinvain. Atlast some one suggested the perform-.

‘ing teapot, and the magician was introduced to her

presence.





FLOSSY TAKES A JOURNEY. aI

She watched the motions of the magician with a
listless air, for she was familiar with the tricks of all
the Chinese jugglers and they had ceased to enter-
tain her. But Flossy was smitten with a sudden
love and pity for this beautiful, sad woman. “If
I were only a little girl I would comfort her,” she
thought ; “and as her daughter I would certainly
find the Child’s Paradise.” So she bobbed about
upon her rope in the most comical manner possible,
jerking so enthusiastically in time to the “tom
tom,” of the drum, that the grand lady was inter-
ested in spite of herself. “I want the teapot for
my own,” she said, as a spoiled child might have
done who was accustomed to have all it desired.

“Impossible,” replied the magician hastily gath-
ering together his wares for departure.

“Itell you I want it, and I will have it,” the lady
cried in a high temper, and her slaves put the ma-
gician out of the palace without any more ceremony.

When the Mandarin, the husband of The Long-
nailed Fair One, heard the story he was indignant
that the magician should have refused to sell the

teapot ; but he was also a little apprehensive lest,



22 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

as they were strangers in the country, the fellow
might prejudice the magistrates against them, and
he advised his wife to return immediately to Pekin.
They set out that very afternoon, travelling in jin-
riki-shas—-a word which may be literally trans-
lated pudi-man-cars ; for they were carriages drawn
by men, and ferried over the rivers by elephant-
prowed boats drawn by strong swimmers. Through-

out the entire journey the lady held and caressed

the precious object which she had coveted and -

stolen. Her ladies admired the teapot greatly and
discussed whether it was of Hizen, Satsuma, Kaga
or Kiyoto manufacture, without being able to settle
either the period or the factory in which it was
made. Almond Blossom, one of the ladies-in-wait-
ing, appointed to hold a gay umbrella over the head
of the Long-nailed Fair One was soundly scolded
if the teapot was exposed to the sun. Pheasant’s
Eye, whose duty it was to fan the lady, was sent

from her presence in disgrace, because by an inad-

vertent movement she had nearly upset the newidol, .

and Nightingale’s Throat was kept constantly on

her knees before it as its especial guardian.



FLOSSY TAKES A JOURNEY. 23

With all this care, it certainly Was very inconsid-
erate and even ungrateful in Flossy to refuse to
dance for her kind owner ; but great was that lady’s
disappointment on her arrival in her own home to
find that none of them could make the teapot per-
form. Evidently the magic was in the magician and _
not in the teapot, for when placed on a tight-rope
it merely fell off as an ordinary piece of porcelain
would have done and was only saved from destruc-
tion by being caught in the long sleeve of The Long-
nailed Fair One.

“ Since we can not make it perform,” that lady
exclaimed in a high temper, “it shall be degraded
to the offices of an ordinary teapot; and you,
Pheasant’s Eye, may make me a cup of tea in it at
once, for I am quite fatigued with my exertions.”

Flossy’s delight at these words knew no bounds.
She had foreseen precisely what would happen and
this was why she had obstinately refused to dance,

.and she could scarcely refrain from turning a
somersault for joy when Pheasant’s Eye proceeded
to slowly fan the coals in the little chafing-dish, and

filled her with clear water. She did not even



24 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

shudder when placed over the fire, for the heat
caused her no pain but sent a warm thrill of pleas-
ure through her entire being. She seemed over-
flowing with merriment and began suddenly to
laugh heartily — she was actually boiling —the lid
flew up, and Pheasant’s Eye shrieked so loudly that
the other ladies hobbled in as quickly as their lit-
tle deformed feet would permit; for the cloud of

steam which had issued suddenly from the teapot ,

had condensed into a pretty little Chinese girl, and
the teapot itself had disappeared.



CHAPTER II.
IN A CHINESE HOME,
(Second Transformation.)

LOSSY’S wish was now gratified ; she was
the daughter of the Long-nailed Fair One,
her father a mandarin of the order of the Two-
toed Dragon,
The Chinese lady looked at her in rapture. “ My
daughter!” she cried, “my own little Boo-hi-ski!”
There was a great deal more to the name, as there
was to the mother’s. Fully translated, it signified
“The child with a balloon instead of a heart, which
causes her to soar above all human sorrow, and to
dance among the stars.” For convenience’s sake
we will designate the balloon-hearted child simply
as Hi Ski.

“My adored Hi Ski!” exclaimed the happy
a



26 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

mother, “have you indeed come back to me
again?” And the mandarin’s wife threw her
arms around Flossy’s neck and wept for joy; for
contrary to all Chinese tradition she had loved
her little daughter as well as if she had beena
son. The Chinese say,

When a son is born
He sleeps on a bed;
He is clothed in robes;
He plays with gems;
_ His cry is princely and loud!
But when a daughter is born
She sleeps on the ground;
She is clothed with a wrapper;
She plays with a tile; :
She is incapable either of evil or good;
It is hers only to think of preparing wine and food,

And of not giving any occasion of grief to her parents.

The Two-toed Mandarin had a son, the child of
a former marriage ; but the boy’s mother was dead,
and the mandarin had married the Long-nailed
Fair One, and, although it was very improper of

him, he loved their little daughter Hi Ski quite as





IN A CHINESE HOME.” 27

well as his gem-wearing loud-crying son. Every
luxury which the Celestial. Empire could furnish
was accordingly lavished upon Flossy whom. both
parents supposed to be their lost daughter.

Their home was one of the elegant country-
houses near the great city of Pekin. It was built
in the light and airy Chinese style, with projecting
roofs gayly painted, and was surrounded with gar-
dens of blossoming quince, plum, pear, mulberry,
peach and other trees. Many of these fruit trees
had been dwarfed so that they grew in flower-pots
and seemed to Flossy “too cunning for anything ;”
and there were artificial lakes where gold fish
swam,. and beside which queer birds stalked.
There were artificial mountains too, which did not
seem to Flossy quite as beautiful as the natural
hills of America, though they had been constructed
with infinite pains.

Everything was so new and curious that for a
time Flossy watched the life about her with inter-
est —the rice fields, the cultivation of the silk-
worms, the tea-gardens and opium farms; and when

they rode into town all the bustle and racket of



28 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT,.

the dirty, disorderly city. She was taken to see
the great China wall, thirty-six feet high and forty
feet broad, which stretches away for over a thou-
sand miles to the north of the empire; a rampart
against the barbarian hordes. There were ramps
on the inside, so that cavalry could ride to the
summit, and six horsemen could. pace abreast on
the top. The Buddhist temples interested her also
with their ugly idols and strange ceremonies. She
was very inquisitive to learn all she could about
the new religion, but was highly indignant when
told by her brother (whose name if literally trans-
lated would fill a page, but whom we may call
‘ for short,” the Dragon-clawed, elephant-tusked,
lion-throated P sarer) that women had no souls.

“No souls!” she exclaimed, “then why must I
worship our ancestors, and burn incense before
the images?” A

“ Because,” replied the Long-nailed Fair One,
“if you are very good you may be permitted to
be born again, and may then happen to be a boy _
and have a soul.”

“ Ridiculous! ” said Flossy.



:



IN A CHINESE HOME. 29

“ Fi Ski!” said her mother reprovingly.
“T want to read about it,” said Flossy, “or go to
Sunday-school, and see if you are not mistaken.”

“TI was carefully instructed in my youth,” said

the Long-nailed Fair One; “more so than most Chi-

nese women. If you would like to learn to read
you may do so, though it is not customary for girls.”

“Of course I want to read,” Flossy replied. “It
is very stupid to play all day by one’s self, and I
want to read some fairy stories.”

Flossy found learning to read in Chinese the
most difficult study she had ever attempted; but
she struggled bravely on, for in her own home
she was an insatiable reader of story-books. No
Paradise could be quite perfect to Flossy without
her Hans Andersen and Alice in Wonderland. She
missed them now vaguely, but in her transmi-
gration had forgotten just what they were. She
mastered the weary printed language a great deal
more rapidly than her stupid brother. The sepa-
rate characters for each word were very hard to
remember, and it did seem as if the Roarer forgot

one for every new one which he learned. He was



30 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

only expert in kite-flying, and had no love for
books,. though he was given the best of instruc-
tors.

When Flossy had learned to read, she asked for
the most interesting book in the language, and her
expectations were quite high, for she remembered
that Mr. Rose had said that Aladdin was a Chinese
story. When her mother presented her with a
volume bound in gold brocade, called Zhe Girls’
Book, and written by Tsau-ta-ku, ages ago, she

opened it eagerly. Tt began:

This girls’ Classic is the instruction of a woman; let the
girls attend to it!

Every day rise early at the fifth watch; do not sleep until
the sun is bright. With an old handkerchief cover up your
hair; go quickly and sweep the veranda. Brush your hair

bright.

Flossy had lost her fluffy blorde curls, and had
now very straight and coarse black hair which she
wore in shining bands oiled and perfumed with
great care, and decorated with flowers and great.

hairpins as big as skewers.







FLOSSY TANGLESKEIN AS THE CHINESE GIRL, HI SKI.






IN A CHINESE HOME, “33

~~” Wash your face clean; soon go into the hall and use your
needle. Depict the peacock ; embroider the phoenix; work

the mandarin ducks.

This embroidery seemed at first great fun, but
Almond Blossom, who gave her lessons, was so
very particular, and so much shocked with her long
Kensington stitches, that Flossy at length voted the
peacock, the pheenix, and the mandarin ducks, the

most disagreeable birds in the world...

Do not laugh loudly, or callin a loud tone. When you
walk neither skip nor jump. Ateight and nine youare grow-
ing older; you should love yotic elder and younger brothers,
and share with them your tea, rice, wine or meat; do not

quarrel if your part is less than theirs.

Flossy read this with some indignation. “Must I,
give up everything to this stupid pig-tailed brother ?”
she said to herself. “When I was an American . ©
child I used to hear Mrs. Rose tell Ruby that boys
were put into the world especially to be nice and
helpful to girls, Ruby was a lovely boy; he used
to carry my satchel to school, and let me stamp on
all his percussion caps when he had any to fire off

instead of enjoying the noise himself.”



34 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT,

The Roarer, Flossy’s new brother, had been very .
selfish with his fire-crackers and had even com-
plained because she was allowed to see the pro-

cession of the Feast of Lanterns.

At ten years old do not idle about, but diligently make
shoes or seams. Early and late sit with your mamma, and
do not leave the house without cause.

The first doctrine is that you must obey; the second good
thing is to respect your elder brother and his wife; the third
important thing is, do not waste rice or flour; be careful of

the soy, vinegar, oil and salt.

“Well, of ‘all uninteresting books!” exclaimed
Flossy. “ Haven’t you anything more entertaining
than this?” ,

“No,” replied her mother, “that is the only book
I know of suitable for girls. I told you that it was
hardly worth your while to learn to read.” |

It would take too long to relate all the persecu-
tions which Flossy endured from her selfish brother ;
suffice it to say that he fully availed himself of all
the advantages to which hissex entitled him. One
was the choice of dishes on the bill-of-fare. There

were many articles of food prepared in the Chinese



IN A CHINESE HOME, 35

style of cookery which Flossy found very nice and
appetizing ; for instance sponge cake stuck all over
with almond meats and moistened with milk, and
various marmalades and preserves ; but there were
others which seemed to her disgusting. The Roarer
insisted on ordering every dinner, and he took a
malicious delight in leaving out the rice custards
and fruits which Flossy enjoyed, and insisting on
the messes which she could not eat. The following
was his favorite bill-of-fare rarely varied except by

necessity : \

Birds’ nest Soup.
Ducks’ feet Soup.
Puppies’ Brains.
Sharks’ Fins.
Roof of pig’s mouth.
Mouse stew with bamboo sprouts.
® Eels with onions and chutney.

Tea served in Chinese style.

This insufferable boy became more and more ex-
asperating every day; still Flossy might have borne
it but for another species of torture to which she

was subjected. The size of her daughter's feet



36 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

greatly distressed the Long-nailed Fair One, and
the ladies-in-waiting were. instructed to bandage
them that they-might be reduced to the fashiona-
ble size. Flossy was a brave little girl, and she
tried to bear the pain as best she might, but it
grew more and more intolerable. . She. could not
‘enjoy the. beautiful gifts which her fond mother
-was continually lavishing upon her, or the novel
sights which she saw from her elegant palanquin.
She envied the poor coolies who carried her, and
who planted their huge, flat-soled feet with such em-
phasis upon the pavement, while her own, swathed
in perfumed silk, racked her frame with pain.
At length she could endure it no longer. “This
is no Child’s Paradise;” she cried. “I had rather
be an American girl and wear gingham instead of
crépe and silver tissue.” Her sorrowful wail ended
in violent sobbing, and Flossy found herself, muth
‘(Third Transformation.)
to her surprise, not a teapot, as the magician had
told she would be if she wept, but restored to her
own original shape, seated in Mr. Rose’s studio

with. one foot fast asleep from having been curled



-

IN: A CHINESE: HOME. 37.

up beneath her. She sprang from the chair and
hopped about the room until circulation was fully
restored. Was it only a dream induced from her
uncomfortable position ? She: was inclined at first
to think so; but afterward when similar experi-
ences were renewed, she believed that some condi-
tion of the wonder-working. charm was unfulfilled,
so that instead of passing into the teapot stage she
was restored at once to her old life.

‘The robe of many colors, which had at first ex-
cited her admiration and envy, lay upon the model-
stand beside the curious teapot, and Flossy gently
lifted the piece of porcelain to her cheek. “I won-
der whether it knows,” she thought; “whether it
is as glad to be ¢# once more as I am to-be I.”

But Flossy was not altogether cured of her bad
habit of dissatisfaction. “I chose a bad country,”
she said to herself. “If the magician had only car-
ried the Bubbling Teapot to some land where they
do not torture little girl’s feet, and where dreadful
boys are not so highly esteemed, and the food not
so outrageous, I do not believe I would ever have

wished myself back again.”



38 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

She slipped on the little Breton costume which
Mr. Rose wished to paint, and stretched her feet
luxuriously in the roomy sabots.

“Tf I had only been sensible enough to have
wished myself a French peasant,” she thought; “I
wonder whether it is too late now; I wonder where
Mr. Rose has gone, and why he does not come
back and finish his picture. That chateau is very
natural; he must have been painting on it while I
was asleep. How gray the sky is, like our Indian
summers, and what finely painted turkeys! You
can almost see them move.”

While Flossy thought this, one of them actually
did move. A gallant gobbler, with a breast shin-
ing with iridescent metallic colors, gravely stepped
over the lower edge of the picture-frame and ap-
proached her with a dignified swinging stride.
Flossy felt her head turning dizzy; the whole
studio seemed circling round and then vanished
completely. She was seated on the grass in the
meadow, with the turkey looking her solemnly in
the face. The chateau with the gabled roof re-

mained clear and real above the trees of the park,



IN A CHINESE HOME. ; 39

and the suit of clothes which she wore was the
same which Mr. Rose had lent her. She compre-
hended the situation at once; her wish.had been
granted and in this fourth transformation she had

become a Breton peasant child.



Norts.— The two extracts from Chinese authors are taken from an ar- ~
ticle published in Lz/e and Light for Woman, May, 1879.—L. W. C.



CHAPTER III.
_THE LITTLE BRETON PEASANT,
(fourth Transformation.)

be had only a vague idea of peasant life.

She had seen peasant costumes at a fancy-
dress party, and thought them pretty. She had
seen pictures of peasants at the exhibitions and in
books; the queer chairs with carved backs were so
picturesque, and even the clumsy kitchen utensils
were quaint and interesting, the copper and brass
shone so brightly in the dark backgrounds, and
the rough pottery was usually gaudily painted and
made bright spots on the dresser. Then the stories
which she had read and which Mr. Rose had told
her of enchanted forests and gnomes and trolls
were intimately connected with peasant-life and al-

together it seemed to her the most delightful thing
; ae



THE. LITTLE BRETON PEASANT, 41

in the world'to be a peasant ; and of all peasantry
in the world surely that of France was the most
" favored.

And now Flossy knew she was changed into -
just such a little peasant. Her hair was tucked
under a queer little white cap. There was the blue
petticoat, and the full white sleeves, and the silver
necklace, the long knitted stockings and the wooden
sabots. They felt very comfortable, and Flossy
stretched herself lazily in the marguerite-starred
grass and laughed softly to herself for very joy.
“This is very peculiar,” she said to herself, “but it

- is also very nice. “I am sure I shall have no occasion
to cry here. This must be somewhere in Brittany,
for the landscape is similar to the sketches which.

Mr, Rose made there. Now let me see what I know
about the country, I can just see how it looks on
the map; it is that port of France which juts out
into the Atlantic Ocean like a cat’s head. It is
bounded on the west by the Atlantic Ocean, on the
north by the English Channel, on the east by the
provinces of Normandy, and Maine, on the south

by Anjou and Poitou and the Atlantic.. Its principal



42 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

towns are, Brest and Morlaix and Vannes and
Saint something-or-other — J don’t believe, however,
that any one here will examine me on the geography
of the country, and if they do I presume I know as
much about it as any of the inhabitants. I wonder
where I live. Perhaps in that chateau, for I don’t
see any other house near. I think I will go and
see,”

Flossy accordingly climbed over the low stone
wall and walked through the great park toward the
chateau. It was filled with tall trees, dark and
gloomy, a real forest such as the grands seigneurs
of France reserved for their hunting-grounds. A
bridle-path appeared to lead in the direction of the
chateau, and she followed it until the pointed roof
and turrets appeared and she caught a glimpse
through an opening in the trees of a milk-white pony
standing on the terrace and of a little girl no taller
than herself in a green velvet dress coming down
the stone steps with a riding whip in hand. Then
a sudden turn in the road brought her face to face
with a poacher. She knew he was a poacher, for

he was cramming a rabbit into a gunning sack. He



THE LITTLE BRETON PEASANT, 43

started with fear when he heard Flossy’s step upon
the dry leaves, but he seemed to recognize her face,
for his expression changed to one of ugly ma-
lignity.

“Why have you followed me, Babette?” he asked.
“Go drive your turkeys home and never dare vent-
ure inside the park again. Do you think that you
are a grand lady,or that it was intended for poor peas-
ants such as we are?” .

Flossy obeyed humbly; something told her that
this unpleasant-looking man was her father for the
present, and though she did not like his appearance
ARS felt that it would be of no use to object to the
fact. She returned to the field, collected her turkeys,
and then was at a loss in which direction to drive
them. She determined to trust to their sagacity, and
as they started off at a good pace she followed them
until they stopped in the dooryard of a stone cot-
tage with a thatched roof, Flossy saw that this cot-
tage with the outbuildings picturesquely huddled .
about it, would have made a pretty painting, but
that the yard was sloppy, the walls dirty, and it

was avery poor home indeed. A peasant woman,



44 . THE BUBBLING TEAPOT,

with coarse hands but a kind face, was coming in

: from the barn with two foaming pails of milk. “Put
up the turkeys, little Babette,” she said pleasantly ;
“thou shall have thy cup of milk and crust of black
bread on the doorstep, and I will tell thee the story
of the Golden Basin.” Flossy hastily penned her
turkeys, and taking her porringer sat down at the.
woman’s knee.

“Tt is by such stories as these, my -cherished
one,” her new mother said kindly, “that we poor
people keep up our hearts ay, and fill our stomachs.
Many is the time when I have had nothing to eat but
a crust of bread spiced with a nasturtion leaf, when
it seemed a sumptuous banquet for the stories that
my mother told me; and this story of the Golden
Basin was always my favorite.

“Once upon my time then, my little cabbage, a
thousand years ago and more, there lived a certain
Yvon, who had plenty of straw in his sabots.” [This
was the good woman’s way of expressing the fact
that Yvon was rich and lived comfortably.] “He
had also a beautiful daughter named ‘Bella. Bella

had many suitors, but Yvon would say to all













FLOSSY TANGLESKEIN AS BABETTE THE LITTLE BRETON PEASANT.







_ THE LITTLE BRETON PEASANT, 47

fo them, ‘Bella shall be the bride of the Golden
Basin. She-is promised to the man who can carry
away from the castle of Kerivaro the basin which
changes everything with which it is filled to gold,’

“ Many departed: on this quest but none returned.

“One evening-a young peasant, beautiful.as an
angel and good as a saint, who was returning from
a pilgrimage sat down to rest on Yvon’s doorstep.
He fell in love with. Bella, like all the rest, and what
"was more to the purpose, Bella was equally.charmed
with him, and he departed in search of the basin
leaving her in tears. -As the youth, whose name
was Lanik, journeyed, he noticed flying before him
a sky-blue pigeon, and following it he soon came in
sight of the towers of the castle. He trembled when
he saw that the walls were an hundred feet high, and
that perched upon the only gate stood a korrigan,
‘or hideous black dwarf, with one eye in the middle
of his forehead, and one in the back of -his head,
and that this ugly creature held a long lance in his
hand. Lanik continued, however, to approach until
suddenly the lance of the dwarf darted out to such.

a length that it nearly touched him. Petrified with



48 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

fright, Lanik stood still, but the blue pigeon began
to warble so gayly that the black dwarf’s attention
was turned. The bird continued its singing, trill-
ing forth such a lively air that the dwarf began to
dance. Faster and faster piped the music and the
dwarf’s legs fairly twinkled in time to it until, utterly
exhausted, he sank upon the rampart and fell asleep.
A huge bunch of keys dropped from his hand, the
lance clashed to the ground and its head rolled off.
Lanik picked up both, unlocked the gate and en-
tered the castle. He saw an immense court and in
the centre a three-headed dragon. The place was
strewn with the bones of those who had come in
search of the Golden Basin. Lanik threw the lance-
head at the dragon, who mistaking it for a cake
swallowed it instantly. Cold steel did not agree
with the creature’s digestion and it fell to the ground
in the agonies of death. Lanik then went through
the castle finding no more terrors to test his bravery,
but tables spread with dainties, and heaps of glitter-
ing jewels. He resisted all these temptations, seized
only the Golden Basin and darted out of the castle

without once looking behind. In the place where he



THE LITTLE BRETON PEASANT. 49

had left the blue pigeon he found a good fairy who
gave him her blessing and disappeared in a blue
cloud. Looking up he saw that the Castle of Keri-
varo had also disappeared, but the Golden Basin re-
mained, and Yvon was glad to receive it in exchange
for Bella whose heart proved a golden talisman to
her husband, and the love with which it was filled
a treasure more precious than jewels or gold.”

It seemed to Flossy that she had listened many
an evening before to stories at this new mother’s
knee, of elves and korrigans and other enchanted
beings, while the kindly woman knit long gray
stockings from coarse yarn. Days passed, and she
learned to love the hard-working simple peasant
woman dearly, and most of all to love the twilight
hour when the turrets of the chateau were silhou-
etted darkly against the tender afterglow left by
the sunset, and she could almost discover the fairies
peeping at her through the dusk. There was John
Redthroat, the obliging bird, who helped little
Snowdrop through all her difficulties, the Queen of
the Pearl Islands who changed her lovers to fish,

the korils of the Fairy Copse who compelled be-



50 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

lated travellers to dance all night with them, and
enchanters with wands of witch-hazel. They were
all very real to Flossy ; and sometimes after hear-
ing the wonderful tales of the Cow of the Sea and
other bewitched animals, she would fancy that their
own black cow was a fairy in disguise and that she |
might take hold of her tail and wish herself beyond
seas only to have the animal start off and swim over
_to Jersey or Guernsey, or some other of the Channel
Islands, from whence it was possible her ancestors
had come in by-gone days. But when Flossy at-
tempted the spell, old Black kicked viciously, nat- '
rowly missing Flossy’s forehead and sending the
pail of foaming milk to grief. That was a sad ex-
periment, but Flossy’s mother believed so thor-
oughly in enchantments herself that she did not chide
her littlédaughter for the mishap. She told her a
new fairy story to céiigole her, of Barbaika the dairy-
maid of Morlaix, for whom the elves churned butter,
scoured milk-pans, baked bread, washed the churns,
covered the butter-pats with linen dipped in the
running brook, and left cherries on her platters and

gold pieces in her apron pockets. In return Bar-



THE LITTLE BRETON PEASANT, 51

baika was to set out a feast for the helpful fairies
in the barn. She did so; but out of pure malice
strewed hot cinders around the table which scorched
their feet almost to the bone. “And that is the
reason,” said Flossy’s mother, “ why elves come no

more to Brittany, for they went away singing:

Barbaika, the shrew,
The bad wife of Jegu,
By her wicked deceit
Burned our poor little feet,
So no more may we dwell
In the green fairy dell ;
_ But we leave our black ban on the barn and the dairy

And we leave Barbaika the curse of the fairy.”

Flossy wondered if she could coax the fairies
back by setting out a feast for them in their cow-shed,
but she was always so very hungty at mealtime that
it was hard to spare a crumbeof the coarse black
bread. She did so one day, however; she covered
the milking-stool with a clean white kerchief, set
acorn cups and saucers upon it, with crumbs of
bread and a few small sweet strawberries. But the.

greedy turkeys flew in through a little window and



52 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

devoured the supper; and Flossy never heard from
the elves, |

Her mother was deeply religious as well as cred-
ulous, and knew many legends of the saints and
miraculous tales about the sacred image in the little
church, which Flossy found quite as interesting as
that of the good-natured elves who helped the dairy-
maids with their cheese. One day, the festival of
her patron saint, the good woman took her little
Babette on an excursion on the river Laitu.

The father had borrowed a boat for this trip and
had agreed to row them, but the temptation of the
cabaret, or low drinking shop, was too much for him
and he had slipped away to spend the day drinking
strong cider with his boon companions. The peasant
woman’s arms were strong and muscular, and put-
ting Flossy in the stern with the basket of crepes, or

fried cakes, which were to serve as luncheon, she

+ took the oars aad sped away on the tranquil stream

to the ruins of the castle of the Comte de,Commore.
They could trace only the foundations of the old
chateau with its four massive towers and its terrible

donjon. The fosse was overgrown with grass and



THE LITTLE BRETON PEASANT. 53

wild flowers, and Flossy frolicked in it and skipped
across it withaut the aid of a drawbridge. She looked
through a rusty grating into what must have once
been a dismal prison, and fancied she saw a ghost
flit through the darkness.

“Tt may well be,” said her superstitious mother
crossing herself, “for this castle was one of the
residences of the famous Comte de Commore, the
terrible lord who murdered his wives, and made no
exception of Sainte Triphine, his last bride, who was
the sister of Saint Gildas and daughter of the Count
of Vannes.”

It was really another version of Blue Beard, that
story which belongs to so many countries, but it_
seemed like authentic history here beside the ruins
of the ancient castle. »

After eating their luncheon they floated down the
river to the deserted monastery of St. Maurice, and
the mother’s legends took on a still more gloomy
character. By the time they reached home the
towers of the chateau in the park were turned to
gold in the sunset glory. “And the people in the.

chateau?” Flossy asked.



54 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

“Ah! those others. Their life is as different
from ours as that of the saints in Paradise,” said
her mother meekly.

This féte-day had been an exceptional one for
Flossy and her mother. Not often were they allowed
awhole day’s holiday. All through the heat of har-
vest they labored side by side in the fields begin- ©
ning at daybreak, and returning to their poor home
at night with heavy, baskets of potatoes. Some-
times they went to the seacoast and assisted the
men at the fisheries, coming home with heavy
loads of fish. Sturdy as Flossy’s peasant mother
was this labor was too severe for her, and the day
came when she was too ill to rise from her misera-
ble bed. Flossy prepared the poor breakfast, and
waited upon her with ready alacrity, but when her
brutal father bade her clean the stable the spirit of
the American girl within her rebelled. “ That is
man’s work,” she replied, “(and you ought not to
compel me to do it.”

“Tt is your mother’s work,” said the peasant,
“and if you will not do it for her, she must.”

Flossy went to the stable burning with indigna-



THE LITTLE BRETON PEASANT. 55

tion. “Women do not labor like this in America,”
she said to herself. ‘Is there no escape from this
horrible life?” She had forgotten that the way of
_ escape was a very simple one. She had only to
weep to become a teapot, and as a teapot only to boil
to become a girl. “If I were only the little girl at
” the chateau,” she thought, and then, as she saw no
friendly korrigan ready to assist her, she bent to
the disagreeable task. But she was only a sensitive
little girl after all; she felt the degradation of her
present employment more than the drudgery, and
forgetful of the spell which would turn her, if she
wept immediately, into a teapot, she burst into a

passion of weeping.



Note.— The Story of the Golden Basin is tranclated from the French. -
L. W. C.



CHAPTER IV.
AS A SPANISH GIRL.
(fifth Transformation.)

HEN Babette’s hard-hearted father came to
seek her, he found only a pretty teapot
standing on a bundle of straw. “ How did this
come here, I wonder,” he said to himself; and
fearing that some one might come in and answer
the question, he popped it into the combin. There
was to be a fair at Pont-Aven in a few days, and
he determined to carry it there and barter it for
something — something which could be converted
into cider.
The féte wasa grand success. There were gayly-
cecorated booths where gingerbread was sold in
great rolls covered with silver paper; there were

peepshows, puppet-shows, merry-go-rounds, and
56



AS A SPANISH GIRL. 57

footraces and games, and a pavilion for the dancers,
with two fiddlers; and there were mountebanks and
strolling actors, musicians, pedlers and every vari-
ety of the genus tramp. There was even an ori-
ental-looking juggler in a fez cap with a long tassel,
who called himself a pilgrim from Jerusalem, and
sold rosaries, which he said were made from olive-
wood from Gethsemane, and who performed mar-
vellous tricks with paper butterflies which he kept
in the. air with his fan. Babette’s father stood be-
fore him a long time in open-mouthed admiration.

“ Tiens !” he said, “‘ but that is beautiful. How
can he make those little beasts disappear and come
again?”

The juggler noticed him and saw that he carried
something wrapped up under his blouse. “ What
have you there, my friend?” he asked.

“Only a teapot which I wish to sell.”

“A teapot! Let me see it.”

“With pleasure, Monsieur. Is it not adorable?
Monsieur is doubtless from the East and a judge
of such things. If Monsieur will derange himself

to observe the ravishing colors.”



58 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

“ Hold, you rascal!” exclaimed the juggler. “ I
know that teapot well. You stole it out of my cart
when I camped last night in the dingle.” —

Babette’s father turned pale. ‘TI call upon all
the saints to witness that I found it! I am no
thief, your worship.” -

“Get you gone,” replied the other; “or I will
have the gensd’armes yonder arrest you.” Bab-
ette’s father, glad to get off so easily, retreated
hastily; and the magician —for it was indeed he
— bestowed the teapot among his wares, and as
hastily took his departure in an opposite direction.

Flossy’s old life of performing now recom-
menced.. The magician wandered down through
the south of France to Spain. He stopped at every
village and showed his tricks to the peasants, and
sometimes in the market places of great cities.
But Flossy did not find her life as a dancing tea-
pot as hard as it had been in Japan; the magician
was kinder to her, and among all the French chil-
dren who watched her bobbing upon the tight
rope, she saw none whom she envied. Her life as

Babette, the Breton peasant-child, had opened her



AS A SPANISH GIRL, 59

eyes. ‘Since the fairies are all.dead,” she said to
herself, “I would rather be a teapot than a child
in France.” oe

Through the ancient chateau-cities of Touraine;
Blois, Tours, and Chinon, through the qauint streets
of Orleans, Joan of Arc’s town, across the vineyard
region to Bordeaux and the sands of La Manche,
they tramped and camped until they reached the
region of the Pyrenees. And now Flossy began to
look about her with more of interest. The mules
with their gay trappings and jingling bells, the
muleteers with their striped blankets worn so
jauntily, were picturesque, and so were the red-
capped goatherds who skipped as lightly as their
own kids among the chasms of the great mountain-
range.

- But now Flossy was not tempted to wish herself
a peasant of any nation. “When I ama girl again,”
she thought, “I. shall not choose poor parents.
Poverty may be very picturesque, but it is not com-
fortable.”

As they descended into Spain and visited the

wealthy and aristocratic cities of Burgos, Madrid,



60 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

Cordova and Seville, Flossy scanned the faces of
the stately old hidalgos and donnas, looking in
vain for a possible father and mother.

One hot and dusty day as the musician trudged
wearily through the long avenue which led to the
Alameda, a public square of Cordova, Flossy caught
sight of a face to which she lost her heart. A beau-
tiful lady reclined languidly in an open barouche.
She was dressed in the Spanish style, with a lace
veil over a high comb instead of Parisian bonnet,
a white rose was tucked coquettishly behind her
ear, her hair and lashes were very long and dark,
and she held gracefully an enormous fan. Her ex-
pression was so extremely sweet and gentle that -
Flossy quite forgot she was only a teapot, and gave
a sudden leap which threw her out of the magi-
cian’s pack and landed her in the dust of the high-
way. The magician walked on, not knowing that
he had lost his teapot, and Flossy hoped that the
lovely lady might notice her where she lay. Her
heart sank as the barouche rolled away, and an al-
most naked street boy picked her up and carried

her to his squalid home in the lowest part of the



AS A SPANISH GIRL. 61

city. The boy’s mother exclaimed at the sight of
the treasure-trove. “It is doubtless the work of
the Moors,” she said; “none but the sorcerer
Moors could make an object so beautiful, and surely
no person save the Gran Capitan can be rich
enough to own it.”

“We might sell it,” suggested the boy.

is Surely, surely. Come with me, and we will go
to the dwelling of the alcayde; he will give us
good money for this lucky find.”

The woman and her son proceeded to a large
stone house painted pink, with no windows toward
the street, but with a wrought iron gate in an
arched entrance which gave the passers-by a
glimpse of a beautiful court filled with oleanders |
and jasmine, and watered by a tinkling fountain.
A portress admitted them to the presence of the
mistress of the house, a portly dame with spiral
love-locks plastered against her temples, and a dark
moustache on her upper lip. “ Dolores,” said this
strange woman, “these people have a bit of bric-a-
brac to sell. Perhaps you would like to look at it.”

Then, from a reclining chair by the side of the



62 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

fountain, rose the very same lady who had won
Flossy’s heart in the Alameda,

“What have you?” she asked in a silvery voice.

“Tt is a piece of porcelain of the, time of the
Moors,” replied the boy’s mother, “which my son
has dug up on the Guadalquivir back of the great
mosque, near the spot where the Khaliff Anasir
had his golden palace.”

“Santiago grant you pardon,” said the boy. “I
did not find it there at all, but on the avenue lead-
ing to the Alameda.” :

“Hold your tongue,” exclaimed the mother
under her breath, while she proceeded volubly to
praise the workmanship of the teapot which she
declared resembled the best Moorish enamelled
work in the great mosque. Ascertaining her price,
the Lady Dolores purchased the teapot, saying that
it made little difference to her whether it were of
Moorish or Christian manufacture ; its own beauty
was sufficient recommendation. ‘The lady was from
Madrid, and was only visiting in Andalusia. She
left the next day for Seville, and continued her

tour to Granada before returning to her home.



AS A SPANISH GIRL, 63

Everywhere in Southern Spain she was struck by
the Moorish remains, their wonderful metal-work
and porcelain, and above all their fairy architecture.
It-was after a visit to the Giralda, or bell-tower of
Seville, that the lady deeply impressed with the
skill of the Moorish builder was about to refresh
herself with a cup of tea. The servants of the
house happened to be absent, and she decided to
make it herself, “Those old Moors were certainly
magicians,” she said to herself, as she filled the
teapot with water and pfaced it over the fire. “TIE
this teapot could ‘speak, what stories it could tell
of ancient splendors, perhaps of Moorish sultans
and princesses who formerly inhabited this very
city. I wonder if the Giralda was once the home
‘of a Moorish princess. Oh! that it were so, and
_ that she might have been kept alive by some potent

spell, that I might see and speak with her.”
(Sixth Transformation.)

As she finished speaking, the kettle boiled, or
rather exploded like a harmless bombshell, and

Flossy stood before her.



64 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

“Blessed St. Antonio!” exclaimed the Lady
Dolores. ‘“ Are you a Moorish princess?”

“No,” Flossy replied, “I am your little girl.”

The lady shook her head doubtfully. “ But you
were a Moorish princess,” she insisted.

“Perhaps so,” Flossy replied; “I have been so
many persons, that I do not exactly remember.
At all events, I am your little girl now. What are
you going to call me?”

“You are so very fair and white, you shall be
Bianca, my little Bianca.” a ; .

The lady returned to Madrid with her foster
daughter. As they had no children of their own
her husband was very willing to adopt Flossy ; but
they determined to keep between them the secret

of her magical appearance. “We do not know

how this experiment may turn out,” they said to

themselves; ‘we must have her regularly baptized,
and taught the catechism, in order to counteract
any wiles which the Evil One may be planning
against us.”

The family, of which Flossy now found herself

a member, was a very noble one and numbered



AS A SPANISH GIRL. 65

many proud names, Mendoza-y-Diaz-y-Cortez-y-
Manzanilla, all linked together like a train of cars.
They lived in a tall house near the royal palace
and had a little country house toward the Escurial.
Here Flossy was always happy; for there were
gardens and a grange, and she could ride on the
‘back of El Campeador, the trusty old war horse
who had borne her father through the last cam-
paign against the Moors under General Prim, had
served later as carriage horse, but had been excused
from labor in the city on account of his age. El
Campeador had been a proud high-stepping steed
in his day, and.had drawn the cumbrous coach on
state occasions, prancing in step with his mate.
But the othér carriage horse had died, and El Cam-
peador himself was past service and had been
turned out to graze. He was kindly disposed, how-
ever, had never grown vicious, and the children
were never afraid of venturing too near his heels.
He soon learned Flossy’s voice, and would rest his
nose lovingly on her shoulder, and even thrust it
into her pocket in search of bonbons.

It was always a trial to Flossy when they left the



66 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

country, but her father and mother were frequently
required at court, for her mother was one of the
queen’s ladies-in-waiting, and before her marriage
had been one of the noble young ladies selected
to the office of dressing the image of the Virgin at
the Atocha convent, the protectress of the royal
family. Flossy had seen this image, and thought it °
a particularly ugly doll; but it had a wardrobe
which a queen might envy, for it was made up of
the coronation and bridal dresses of the different
queens of Spain. These robes had been shown her ;
magnificent trained gowns of green velvet embroi-
dered with silver, maroon velvet covered with gold
“lace, brocades of every color, milky satins loaded
with point lace — dresses worn by all the queens
of Spain from Isabella the Catholic, to little Mer-
cedes. There were two of this unfortunate child-
queen which touched Flossy most of all; one a
coronation robe embroidered with the arms of
Spain, the other a dainty blue silk of Worth’s
manufacture, encrusted with pearls.
On festival days, the image promenaded the city

in a queer little pickle-jar chariot, which allowed



AS A SPANISH GIRL. 67

the common people to have a glimpse at her mag-
' nificence through its glass doors. Flossy’s mother
told her how it had been her privilege to dress the
image for these rides, and that one day the honor
would be her daughter’s. Flossy had a little girl’s
love of dolls, and though she did not think the
virgin as pretty as any of the thirty-six dolls which
she left in her American home, she still thought it
would be great sport to dress it in.the royal gowns.

One day there was a royal christening at the
convent of Atocha and Flossy was present; and
though it was the grandest ceremonial which she
saw while in Spain, the pomp and parade wearied
her extremely. It had been arranged for her to
return to her own home after the baptism with her
nurse, for her parents were going to the palace;
but in the confusion of departure she was sepa-
rated from the waiting-woman who, concluding that
her master and mistress had changed their mind
and carried the little Bianca to the palace with
them, returned to the city without her. Flossy,
when she missed the nurse, waited for her near

the tomb of General Prim; but the entire congre-



68: THE BUBBLING TEAPOT,

gation passed out and. she was left quite alone.
Then when she attempted to leave the chapel she ©
found, to her dismay, that the door was locked.
She did not cry as another child might have done,
but looked about, trying to ascertain how she
might make the best of circumstances. The vir-
gin gazed at her from her elevated position above
the high altar, and Flossy thought that if she could
ever get her down it would be pleasant.to pass
. away the time by: dressing her. She wandered
into the vestry and found, to her delight, that one
of the wardrobes was urlocked. There was a
step-ladder here too, and a long pole used in light-
ing the altar candles, These Flossy laboriously
dragged into the chapel, and thus succeeded in
gaining possession of the virgin. Then how the
hours flew by! It seemed to Flossy that she had
the very best time that afternoon that she had

enjoyed in any of her transformations. She .
dressed and undressed the image, over and over
again. She even dressed herself in a robe once
" worn by Blanche of Castile, and played house with

the virgin in the wardrobe.







#LOSSY TANGLESKEIN AS BIANCA, THE SPANISH GI"







AS A SPANISH GIRL, 71

“ At last,” said Flossy, “ T have found the Child’s
Paradise. It is in Spain, and I am having lovely
fun.”

Alas! for Flossy. At that very moment the sac-
ristan entered the room and discovered her at her
play. He turned green with rage and horror and,
seizing Flossy by the shoulders, shook her until
she was dizzy.

“What is your name, sacrilegious one?” he
asked, when quite weary of shaking her.

“Flossy Tangleskein,” the ‘child replied when
she could catch her breath.

“Zangalzagein! I know the names of every

Madrid family — there is none such in all Spain.”
_ “I beg your pardon, sir. I forgot, I have had
so many different names, and you shook me so
that it mixed me up. Let me see what is it this
time — Babette? Hi-ski? No. Oh! Iremember.
Bianca Mendoza-y-Diaz-y-Cortez-y-Manzanilla.”

Flossy was hustled home in disgrace. Her
father was deeply mortified, and her . mother
shocked and grieved. The affair would have

created a great scandal had not the sacristan been



72 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

bribed to silence. Donna Dolores and her hus-
band had a long and serious talk together-about
their foster child. Dolores was. convinced that
Flossy’s pagan nature, as a Moorish princess, was
beginning to assert itself; and she trembled for her
future behavior. “And yet, I cannot give her up
to the Church, as I fear me I ought to do,” she
said sadly. “It is true that the holy office of the
Inquisition is abolished, and Mother Church is
more tender to her erring children than formerly ;
but it might be thought best that Bianca: should
adopt a religious life, and I cannot part with my
little girl, for I have learned to love her very
dearly.” oe
“Then there is only one thing left to be done; *
she must be kept out of sight for the present. We
cannot-have her bring disgrace and scandal upon
our family in this way. She must go to the grange,
and be brought up there in strict seclusion.”
When this announcement was made to Flossy,
she could have clapped her hands for joy, had it
not been for the distress which she saw in her

kind mother’s face.



AS A SPANISH GIRL, 73

“You will come to me often, mamma dear, will
you not?” she begged, “and I will be very good,
will study and mind my governess, and try hard
not to grieve you.”

“Sweet one,” replied Donna Dolores, “I ans
afflicted only because you will have so little to
amuse you at the grange.” |

“T shall be very happy, mamma dear, for El
Campeador will be there and I shall learn to ride
him. He lets me climb to his back by pulling my-
self up by his mane, and is so gentle and loving.”

“You shall have El Campeador for your own,
my angel, and I will send out a little blue velvet
saddle with you. It is decided that you are to go
to-morrow after the bull-fight. I have begged that
you may remain to see that beautiful spectacle,
It would be too heart-rending that you should lose
all the festivals in honor of the christening.”

“Ts the bull-fight so very splendid, mamma ? v

“Ah! my sweet one, it is ravishing! the music
and the prancing horses, the velvet suits of the
picadores, the banderiflos all laced in gold, with

satin suits and curled hair, the terrible bulls paw



74 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT,

ing the earth, bellowing, rushing upon their tor-
mentors — Ah! but it is heavenly !”

The next day Flossy attended the bullfight. It
seemed to her that all Madrid went with her; for
the long road from the city. to the amphitheatre
was crowded with vehicles of every sort— the ele-
gant coaches and barouches of the noble and
wealthy, loaded omnibuses bearing people of the
middle class, and every description of cart, dray
and wagon that could be devised to go on wheels.
While those too poor to afford a ride trudged
through the dust on foot. The bull-ring was open
to the. sky, the seats of the spectators circling it
as ina circus. Only those of the upper classes
were shielded from the sun by awnings; but every
one wore their best, and the ladies in their bright
dresses made bouquets of rose-color, yellow, blue
and vivid crimson, while fans moved incessantly
like a flock of restless butterflies.

Presently there was a fanfare of trumpets, and
the triumphal entry of the performers took place.
This part of the spectacie was very brilliant and

imposing. Flossy’s eyes sparkled with excitement.



AS A SPANISH GIRL. 75

_ She did not enjoy so much the next act, where
a furious bull was teased and badgered by jica-
doves ; but when an agile danderillo— a young man
dressed in light green satin embroidered with
’ silver, and further enriched with a rose-colored
sash — performed a number of reckless feats be-
fore the very nose of the infuriated animal, she
could not help admiring his intrepidity and quick
and graceful movement. Each time that the bull
would lunge toward him he would leap aside,
throwing a little dart decorated with ribbons at his
neck, until the poor creature became an animated
pincushion. Finally the matador despatched the
animal with a single stroke of a long sword, and
the body was dragged from the arena by mules
covered with gay trappings and jingling bells.
Flossy shuddered at this, but the band struck up
a gay selection from the Barber of Seville, and the
same programme was repeated with a new bull.

“He was an ugly animal, brindled and long-
horned, with small vicious eyes; and in the very
first round: he killed two horses, mangling them

horribly. Flossy hid her eyes, quite sick with



76 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

disgust, and her father tried to comfort her, say-
ing that the horses were wornout hacks, not good
for anything.

“Oh! how can they treat them so cruelly, when

they have spent their lives in faithful service?”
Flossy cried. “Only think of El Campeador!
How would you like to see him treated so!”
* At that instant one of the prcadores who had
been dismounted entered on a fresh horse. He
was old like the others, and slightly lame; but he
snorted when he heard the martial music and tried
to curvet as he had done at other ceremonials.
“Only see that poor creature!” cried the child.
“They have bandaged his eyes, and he does not
know that he is riding to his death, for he trusts
to his master. See what a long silky mane and
tail— just like El] Campeador, father. Mother it
is E1 Campeador!” And she shrieked aloud.

“Tt is impossible,” exclaimed Donna Dolores.

“No,” replied the father, “itis quite true. The
steward wrote me a few days ago that he had been
offered a handsome sum for him by the pzcadores,

and I wrote him to accept it, for it was much more



AS A SPANISH GIRL, "4

than we could hope to realize for him in any other
way. He would die soon— what does it matter?”

As he spoke, the bull approached the pzcador
warily, and Flossy screamed louder than before in
apprehension, She was sure that the horse recog-
nized her voice, for he wheeled partly around and
neighed joyfully. Then the bull made a sudden
lunge, and horse and rider rolled upon the ground.

Donna Dolores rose to lead her sobbing daugh-
ter from the ring; but as she turned to take het
hand it seemed to her that Flossy must have

slipped out before her, for the child was gone.
She hurried after her and sought her in the crowd
outside, but she was nowhere to be seen.

The janitor of the ring who dusted the seats and
picked up the scattered cigarettes, programmes
and flowers, afterward found a curious teapot in
the stall which the family had occupied; but as
no inquiries had been made for it, he did not

trouble his conscience to seek for its owner.



CHAPTER V.
AT THE GYPSY QUARTER,
(Seventh Transformation.)

HE janitor of the bull-ring carried the teapot

home to his wife Inez, who thought ita great

deal too fine to make tea in, and set it before her

image of St. James to be used as a benitiek—a holy
water can,

There it stood until one day a wild-eyed woman
entered the house. The room happened to be va-
cant; and the gypsy looked around quickly, the
teapot caught her eye, and she had stepped for-
ward with outstretched hand when Inez, hearing
her footfall, entered, and both women looked at
each other with dislike and suspicion. The gypsy
Was the first to speak. She assumed a wheedling

manner and her voice was insinuating in its tone:
78



AT THE GYPSY QUARTER. 49

“ May the blessing of the Zincali await you, beauti-
ful lady, and may you have pity on the poor wan-
derer who has nothing but her wisdom to read the
future, and who does not envy you the high fortune
which she sees in store for you. No, though the
next time we meet the dust of your ladyship’s car-
riage will be whirled in the face of the poor fortune-
teller.”

Inez, who had never ridden in anything more aris-
tocratic than a cake-pedler’s cart, was consumed
with delight and curiosity.

“How much do.you ask for telling-the future?”
she inquired. “I have only a few reals.”

“© beautiful lady, do not hesitate on account of
the cost. I will tell your ventura out of love and
admiration for your sweet face, and you will give
me in return any old scraps of rags or second-hand
crockery which you may like to rid yourself of. Lis-
ten, fair lady; you are on the verge of unexpected
wealth. Your husband is about to be promoted to
a post of great honor. He will also discover a hid-
den treasure, and will clothe you in cloth of gold

and jewels, and this will come true in four moons.”



80 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT,

“When will he find this treasure?”

“It is buried deep under ground in a place which
is daily trodden by hundreds of feet.”

“Yes,” thought Inez, “under the entrance of the
bull-ring.”

“Tt must be dug for at dead of night, yourself
holding the lantern. Nowfor this beautiful fortune
what will my noble lady give me? Some castaway .
dresses and this trumpery teapot which takes up the
place of the elegant silver vase which you will find
inthe buried treasure?” The gypsy strode to the
mantel and placed her hand on the teapot.

“Leave that, woman,” Inez cried so determinedly
that her hand fell. “JI will give it to you when we |
have found the vase, not one moment before.”

“When people achieve success they forget the
friends of their obscurity. You will give me some-
what now for the good fortune, or I will lay on you
the spell of the evil eye.”

She looked malign enough to be able to do this;
and Inez under her stout exterior trembled.

She furtively crossed herself, and taking from her

bosom a small purse at the conclusion of the ges-



AT THE GYPSY QUARTER. 81

ture, handed the gypsya silver coin. ‘ Begone,”
she exclaimed, “I have wasted too much time in
listening to you already.”

A black look came over the gypsy’s face, but
she caught the shadow of a cocked hat on the floor
and knew that a member of the military guard was
sauntering past. Accordingly she thrust the coin
among her rags and slunk away.

That night Inez and her husband hurried to the
bull-ring as the gypsy well knew that they would,
the one bearing a lantern and the other a spade.
They had hardly vanished around the corner when
three shadowy forms darted from as many recessed
doorways, and the little house was. entered.
“There is the teapot,” said the gypsy. “I am
convinced that it is the same one which the strange
brother from over-seas told us to search for and
secure for him.”

One of the men seized it, saying,.“It is full of
treasure most likely. We will divide the booty and
swear that when we found it it was empty. Hold
your hands, both of you.”

The others clustered closely about, and the man



82 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

overturned the teapot. They darted back as they
felt the involuntary baptism. “Bah!” exclaimed
the woman, “‘it is what the Busne call holy water:
it will do us a mischief most likely unless we
repeat some strong spell against it. Let us hasten
from the house.”

So frightened were they by this accident that they
did not wait to make other thefts, but hurried away
with all speed possible, mounting their donkeys
just outside the city and taking the road to the
south, They travelled all night, and two days
after they reached the gypsy quarter of Granada
in the cliffs back of the Alhambra. Little did hex
gypsy captors suspect that this teapot was a meta-
morphosed little American girl. who had read a
great deal of sentimental nonsense about the de-
lights of gypsy life and was very glad to observe it
in disguise.

Flossy found the gypsy quarter a very queer
place. The almost perpendicular cliffs were honey-
combed with caves, in front of which narrow paths
went zig-zagging upand down. Donkeys and mules

were frequently stabled in caves whose further re-



AT THE GYPSY QUARTER, 83

cesses were occupied by their owners. Many of the
caverns were lit up by lurid fires, for blacksmithing
is a favorite gypsy trade. Hordes of half or wholly
naked children scampered like goats up and down
the steep paths.

The cave in which Flossy found herself was at
once a blacksmith shop and an inn. The woman
who had stolen the teapot was assigned a corner
_ where she slept with her head on a pack-saddle.
The family merely rented rooms, their guests go-
ing out for their meals, by which term we may ex-
press the begging excursions which furnished them
food.

One day it inevitably happened that the magical
teapot was placed to boil over the blacksmith’s
forge, and when the woman looked to see if it were
ready she was terrified to find that it had disap-
peared. “It has melted!” she shrieked; “it has
been consumed in the fire. Now when the Strange
Brother. comes from his journeying in the land of
the Moor, I cannot give it to him and claim my re-
ward, Woe betide the day that I ventured under

this roof,”



84 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

She continued her lamentations but did not no-

tice that the horde of little black-eyed gypsy chil-
(Zighth Transformation.)

dren counted one more. Flossy stood among the
others, a little bewildered by the suddenness of
the change, but outwardly quite like the rest, a
brown-skinned child with straight coarse hair, clad
a little more extravagantly than her brothers and
sisters since she wore a white chemise, a blue
flannel petticoat, and a pair of gold earrings, while
among the seven other children only five garments
were distributed.

“Who are. you?” the woman of the house
asked, as Flossy presented herself when the con-
tents of the begging bag were divided. Flossy was
silent, for she did not as yet know her name, and
one of the children said, “She must be Katinka,
the daughter of the woman who died last night.”

“Then,” said the mother, “I will not turn you
off. Go and beg, and as long as you bring me
each night your gains you may sleep with the

children,”



AT THE GYPSY QUARTER. 85

“J shall not do that,” Flossy thought to herself,
“if I can find any other place to sleep.”

Leaving the cave she mounted to the top of the cliff.
There was a church here, and behind the church,
streets. She strolled through them leisurely, some-
times stopping to examine a wayside shrine or to
pick up a bright bit of broken tile from the débris
behind the Alhambra-wall. In the course of her
wanderings she came at last to the great Gate of
Justice, the entrance to the Alhambra. She came
to know the place better as time passed, but at
present she wondered, as any other untutored
child would have done, at the red brick tower
with the horseshoe-shaped portal. She descended
to the city of Granada and wandered through the
market-place, growing more hungry as she went,
but not once begging or complaining. -A fruit-
seller noticing her wistful face threw her a slice of
melon, and this was all her dinner. Days passed
by of which this was the type. She was hungry
often, she underwent many hardships, but she
was perfectly free to wander where she pleased,

the climate was delicious, and when she did not



86 ; THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

care to go home she slept out of doors, and was.
on the whole as happy a little wild animal as ever
burrowed in the thicket.

One day she entered the Alhambra, slipping
by the guard while he flirted with a pretty Spanish
girl, The beauty of this wonderful palace of the
Moors surprised and enchanted her. There were
courts with fountains, long colonnades of arches
decorated with brilliant colors, mosaic pavements
of beautiful patterns, and fairy domes opening into.
each other like clustered soapbubbles.

- Some dim memory was awakened by the sight.
It seemed to Flossy that she had heard or read of
. this place before. An American artist was sketch-
‘ing the Fountain of Lions and she ventured near
enough to peep at his picture. He was not alone,
for a lady. seated beside him was. reading aloud
from Washington Irving’s Zales of the Alhambra.
Flossy listened to a story of a Moorish Princess
who lived in a tower, and heard the artist and his
wife discuss which of the towers of the Alhambra
was probably meant, They looked up, the one
from the story, the other from the painting, and













FLOSSY TANGLESKEIN AS KATINKA, THE GRANADA GYPSY GIRL.















SEER
Seo 5) {

= By









AT THE GYPSY QUARTER, 89

noticed her. Each made an exclamation, “I
must put her in this sketch,” said the artist ; and
he asked Flossy if she would pose for him. The
sum he offered seemed immense to her gypsy
ideas and she readily took the required position.
The lady read many stories during the days that
followed, for Flossy still continued to pose for the
artist. He painted her with tambourine or casta-
nets; dancing, resting, in a number of different
attitudes,

Flossy’s foster-mother was delighted with the
silver coin which she brought every evening, and
Flossy herself became more and more interested
in the stories.

“Tf I had only been born a Moorish Princess!”
she thought to herself, and then she remembered
that her Spanish mother believed that she was one
in disguise.

When she returned to her cave home she inter-
ested her foster-brothers and sisters by telling
them the tales which she had heard, and the older
people gathered about her, listening as well.

Flossy concluded one marvelous story with the



go THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

somewhat startling remark: “ And I know that all
this can be true, for I also ama Moorish Princess.”

A dead silence followed the assertion, Look-
ing up she saw that her foster-mother was squint-
ing horribly, the blacksmith was also squinting,
and every child, down to the youngest baby, rolled
its eyes in an unnatural and disagreeable manner.

“Will your Moorish Mightiness condescend to
descend to the river and fetch me a jar of water?”
said the old crone with a mocking leer._

“Give me a necklace of pearls, Princess?” said
one of the girls.

“A scimitar with a jewelled hilt,” cried the
eldest boy. While those who could not compre-
hend what the jeering was about, still joined in it,
thrusting out their tongues and pointing at her
derisively. Only the blacksmith refrained, and as
she took up the heavy earthen water-pot and
stumbled down the hill to the river, he turned to
his wife with the remark: “ Have a care what you
say ; what she says may be true.”

“Tdiot, have you taken leave of your senses?”

“No more than yourself, my beautiful one.



AT THE GYPSY QUARTER. gi

But do you remember the Strange Brother who
was in our company a year agone, he of the Dar-
Bushi-Fal, who came to us travelling out of the
Land of the Moors?”

“ Remember him, have I not cause to do so?
It was he who told us of the precious teapot hid-
den somewhere in Spain and set my cousin wild
to search for the same, which being found brought _
us only ill luck.”

“ Know then, that the stranger is no true Roma
(gypsy) though he spoke our language, but a
Moor of the sect of Sidi Hamed au Muza, and for
aught I know a descendant of the very kings who
once reigned in the Alhambra.”

“And if that be so, brother, what has it to do
with the child Katinka ?”

“The woman who died and left her was also of
the Dar-Bushi-Fal, travelling out of the land of the
Moors. The child is like the stranger. I believe
that she is his daughter.”

“Tt is likely, brother, your guess is a shrewd
one.”

“Did the woman leave no clothing, or orna-



92 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

ments, anything by which the guess might be
verified ?”

“She brought no bundles with her. Her
money, which was considerable, I claimed for her
burial. There was a key fastened about her neck
by a cord which I have preserved, but I know not
what manner of door it opens.”

The woman brought the key and the man ex-
amined it curiously. He was enough of an expert
in metal-work to know that this was no ordinary
key. It was large, of curious shape, and damas-
cened upon it in gold was an Arabic sentence.

“T have heard,” said the man, “that when the
Moors were driven out of this land by the Chris-
tians they carried the keys of their houses with
them. This poor woman had brought hers back
but died before she was permitted to enter. Give
it to her, daughter; she wanders about the Alham-
bra daily. Tell her to try every coor, and to tell
us when she finds one which it will open.”

Flossy took the key, but she determined that.
she would not tell her gypsy parents if she made

any extraordinary discoveries.



AT THE GYPSY QUARTER. 93

The next day it happened that the reading was
about the unfortunate Prince Boabdil. “It was
from the Tower of the Seven Floors,” said the lady
as she closed the book, “that he left the Alharh-
bra when obliged to surrender it to Ferdinand and
Isabella. He is said to have requested that no
one should be permitted to pass through that gate-
way after him, and it was walled up by Ferdinand.
Our hotel backs against the tower and the owner
has torn down the brick wall which was so senti-
mentally built. The door of the gateway remains
and opens into the hotel garden. I have asked
the landlord to let me have the tower fitted up as
a studio for the rest of the season.”

Flossy’s curiosity was excited. She was sure
that the key would open this door, and one day
when she had been asked to visit the new studio,
she had an opportunity to try the lock. She found
her suspicions true. The gypsies had asked her
from time to time of her success, and to stimulate
her efforts had told her the entire story, so that
when the key turned back the massive bolt in

Boabdil’s door the conviction came upon Flossy



94 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

that she was not a gypsy but, as she ‘had wished,
areal Moorish Priicess. And yet what was the
gain? Even ifshe could prove her descent straight
from the great Muley Abul Hassan, she was a
Moorish Princess of the year of grace 18— and
not of the old and splendid day of which she had
heard. Evidently the charm of which she had the
benefit had no power to roll back the wheels of
time, but could only transport her from country to
country and give her an experience of the life
which now is. To be a Moorish Princess to-day
in the Alhambra was exactly equivalent to being
a barefooted gypsy. She wondered whether it
would not be better in Morocco, the land of the
Moor. If the Stranger Brother of the Dar-Bushi-
Fal would arrive some night and take her with
him to Barbary, perhaps in the royal gardens of
Fez she might find the Child’s Paradise.

She had finished her posing for the day as she
thought this, and was leaving the Tower of the
Seven Floors by Boabdil’s Gate, when she saw a
strange-looking man peering through the hotel

entrance into the garden. He was dressed some-



AT THE GYPSY QUARTER. 95

thing like a gypsy, but his complexion was lighter
and instead of the broad sombrero he wore a
voluminous turban. Flossy approached him fear-
lessly, but in the shadow of the entrance he caught
her arm.

“Give it to me,” he said in a hoarse whisper, “I
saw it in your hand, do not deny it.”

. Flossy handed him the coin which she had just
received and tried to wrench herself from his
grasp, but he held her wrist tightly.

“That is not what I mean,” he said. “Give me
the key. Those English have plenty of money;
there is no reason why they should not share it
with us. Iam your father Hamet au Muza, and
I will take you to the land of the Moor, but first
we will despoil these Christians.”

“No, father,” Flossy cried bravely ; “they have
been good to me and you must not rob them.”
Her remonstrance was useless. The man’s grasp
closed on the key. “I will not let go,” the child
cried; “if you kill me I will not let go. Help!
help!” The man loosened his hold on the. key
and placed his hand over her mouth. Flossy felt



g6 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

the uselessness of her resistance and burst into

tears. It was her best defense.
(Ninth Transformation.)

Key and child vanished and the astonished man

found himself holding a small porcelain teapot.



CHAPTER VI.
THE BEST OF ALL,

HE magician, for it was really he, was very
much surprised at receiving his teapot in
this remarkable manner, for he had not recognized
Flossy in the Gypsy child. He was as pleased as
he was astonished. “ Bubbling Teapot!” he cried,
“T would rather have thee again than all the treas-
ure which the Christian artist may have hidden in
that tower. We will journey into the Land of the
Moor, O precious teapot! and there you shall
vault and tumble and dance upon the tight-rope
before sheiks and pashaws and we will get gain,
and your renown shall be’ published throughout
the entire land — even from Mogadore to Timbuc-
too and the uttermost parts of the Soudan.”
The magician was as good as his word. They

crossed the Strait of Gibraltar and Flossy found
97



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FLOSSY TANGLESKEIN IN MR. ROSE’S STUDIO.
THE BUBBLING TEAPOT

A WONDER STORY

BY
MRS. LIZZIE W. CHAMPNEY

Author of “ALi ARouND A PALETTE,” “IN THE SKY GaR
DEN,” “THREE VASSAR GIRLS ABROAD,” ETC,

‘TWELVE ILLUSTRATIONS BY

WALTER SATTERLEE

BOSTON
D. LOTHROP COMPANY
1893
Copyright, 1886,
by
D. Lorurop & Company.
CONTENTS.

“CHAPTER I,

PAGE

FLossy TAKES A JOURNEY. ‘ . . . 7
CHAPTER II.
In a CutnesE HOME . " . : . . 25
CHAPTER III. ,
THE LITTLE BRETON PEASANT a y 2 i 40
CHAPTER IV.
As A SPANISH GIRL Borie : gaa eure 56
CHAPTER V.
AT THE GYPSY QUARTER a b f 3 . 78
CHAPTER VL
THE BEST OF ALL . : i . . . . 97
CHAPTER VII.
‘THE CHILD’s PARADISE . 3 . . . . 15
CHAPTER VIII.
AMONG THE Lapps . 5 . . . . . 132
CHAPTER IX.
GOING TO THE MIssION . eet asic et hone 153

CHAPTER X.
“CasKET OF PEARLS” . : R ES 5 178
A CHAPTER XI.
Tye Caste SysTEM. . és 5 : . . 2i1-
CHAPTER XII.
THE SPELL IS BROKEN . ‘ . . . . 243

ILLUSTRATIONS.

PAGE
Flossy Tangleskein in Mr. Rose’s Studio - . Front.

Flossy Tangleskein as the Chinese Girl, Hi Ski. 31

Flossy Tangleskein as Babette, the little Breton
Peasant . : 3 s . : . : 45

Flossy Tangleskein as Bianca, the Spanish Girl . 69

Flossy Tangleskein as Katinka, the Granada
Gypsy Girl. 2 : 5 : a : 87

Flossy Tangleskein as Zobeide, the little Egyptian . 103
Flossy Tangleskein as an African Princess. : 123
Flossy Tangleskein as Gudrun, the Lapland Girl . 139
Flossy Tangleskein as the Brazilian Girl aces 159
“My precious Pomegranate Blossom,” she ex-

claimed . : ;: Saale : . . 193
Flossy Tangleskein as the Hindu Girl, Nourmahal . 219

Flossy Tangleskein as the little Roman Giovanina . 251
THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

. CHAPTER I.
FLOSSY TAKES A JOURNEY.

R. ROSE, whose studio was on the very top

floor of the apartment house opposite which

Flossy Tangleskein lived, wished Flossy to pose
for him.

He admitted that this was a great favor, but
among all the models of the city he knew of no little
face that would suit him so well, and as the fami-
lies were old friends he asked it as a special kind-
ness.

The studio had a great fascination for Flossy.
She had a queer notion that one day, when she
was a younger girl, and had played here with the
artist’s son Ruby, they had seen a pair of wonder-.

ful paint-bogies ; queer little elves who had told
7?


8 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

them stories and had made remarkable things
happen to them. Flossy had been laughed at not
a little for this belief but she still held it firmly, and
the studio seemed to her enchanted ground where
anything strange might happen. It was a year
since she had entered it, for when Ruby and she
had last played there they had made free with the
paints, and had dressed up in the costumes; and
since then Mr. Rose had not been prodigal of his
invitations to children. He was a nervous man,
and did not enjoy having them dash about among
his bric-a-brac, or stand too near his freshly-
painted pictures. Still Flossy cherished the mem-
ory of what she had seen in the room, how her
eyes had grown large with wonder and admiration
at the curious things with which it was filled.
There was a brilliant blue and yellow macaw
chained to a perch, which she liked to feed, offer-
, ing it lumps of sugar at a safe distance with a pair
of sugar-tongs, for the macaw had a vicious tem-
per. There were portfolios of sketches which she
would have liked ‘to rummage ; and stately gowns

which she would have enjoyed trying on. Alto-
FLOSSY TAKES A JOURNEY. 9

gether everything was different from the careful
propriety of their own parlor, and Flossy was |
tired of the sameness and commonplace of her
comfortable and quiet life, in which. nothing excit-
ing ever happened as in the story-books,

- “T wish,” she thought to herself, “that I had

been born some other kind of a child,

For I might have been a Russian,
A Frenchman or a Prussian,

Or even an Italian.
But in spite of each temptation,
To belong to another nation,

Iam only an American.”

It would have been a great deal more romantic,
she thought, to’ have been an Italian bambino in
wonderful Rome or Naples, far more interesting
to have been born among lotus blossoms, an
Egyptian child. There was a portfolio of Egyp-
tian photographs in Mr. Rose’s studio, but among
them one of a ruined temple with long colonnades
of columns with tulip-shaped capitals, and the
great, lazy Nile shimmering in the background.

No school bell could pierce the slumberous air;


10 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

there certainly was the Child’s Paradise. How
picturesque too, she might have been as a French
peasant in the happy vineyards of France. It
was as a Breton peasant child that Mr. Rose
wished her to pose. And he handed her a queer
little costume which he had brought back from
Pont Aven ; consisting of a rather long-skirted,
dull blue petticoat, a white waist with full sleeves,
a black velvet bodice and a queer little cap.
Flossy slipped these on in the dressing room, her
fluffy blonde hair escaped from the cap, covering
her shoulders, and Mr..Rose fastened about her
neck a silver chain with curiously formed links, and
gave her a clumsy pair of sabots or wooden shoes,
in which she found it very hard to hobble across
the studio. Then he showed her a sketch of the
picture which he wished to make — a little girl
guarding a flock of turkeys in a broad meadow;
in the distance loomed the pinnacled and gabled
roof of a grand French chateau.

When Flossy had taken the desired position
Mr. Rose began to paint, amusing her as he did

so with a legend of Brittany. The child’s head was
a ee eT Ta

FLOSSY TAKES A JOURNEY. It

quite turned, and she wished passionately that she

might have been a Breton peasant child. She was
so discontented with her hum-drum-bread-and-but-
ter-spelling-book, American child-life that she even
said to herself she would gladly change to a little
Zulu savage, or an almond-eyed Oriental like the
ones who were perpetually walking in the tea-
garden on the great embroidered screen.

Mr. Rose, like many another artist, was ex-
tremely fond of Oriental bric-4-brac, by which term
we mean all the bright and curious things we see
in the Japanese stores. He was a collector too,
as far as his purse would permit. A great Japa-
nese umbrella hung in the centre of his studio,
and, as Flossy said, gayajied the whole apartment.
The room was further brightened by a shelf of
Japanese and Chinese porcelain, and a screen
draped with costumes in Canton crépe and soft
silks of exquisite tints. Mr. Rose let her put on
one of these. It was a little brocade wrapper,
one side of which was sky-blue, and across it were

embroidered sprays and branches of blossoming

peach, and soft white storks, flying in long lines.
12 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

The other side of the dress was irregularly divided’
into purple and rose-colored spaces, the purple
figured in great golden dragons, and the rose in
kaleidoscopic patterns of mingling colors. It
was a very beautiful garment wadded and lined
with fine crépe of a pale saffron tint. It nearly
touched the floor, and Flossy thought she had
never seen any American child dressed half so
fine. Why was it that her mamma considered it
out of taste to wear ‘more than two colors at once,
when this gorgeous robe combined at least eight ?
She stepped before the mirror and lifted her arms
with the long sleeves. “I look like one of the
teapots up there on the shelf,” she said, laughing.
_“ You do indeed,” replied Mr. Rose, taking
down a beautifully enamelled Satsuma one and plac-
ing it on the table beside her. “Do you know,”
he continued, “that the Japs have a story about a
Bubbling Teapot, something like Aladdin and the
Wonderful Lamp? And it is not very strange that
there should be a similarity between the two, for
Aladdin is a Chinese story.”
“Tell me about the teapot, please,” said Flossy.
»

FLOSSY TAKES A JOURNEY. 13

“*J don’t quite remember it. It was a mess of
nonsense about a bubbling girl and a weeping tea-
pot. Every time the teapot cried it turned into a
boiling girl, and every time the girl bubbled she
turned into a weeping teapot.”

“T think you have mixed that up, something the
way my Grandma Tangleskein mixes sermons,”
Flossy remarked gravely. She remained perfectly
quiet for a few moments, her eyes fixed on a gilt
dragon which formed the handle of the teapot
with its contortions. ‘Then she glanced at her
right sleeve about which another golden dragon
writhed, and said slowly, “I wish I had been born
in the Arabian: Nights, and could change into a
pretty teapot.” Then she gave a little cry, but
Mr. Rose did not hear her for he had suddenly
rémembered a Cloisonné vase which was to be sold
that morning at auction at the custom house, for
non-payment of duty, and seizing his hat he rushed
out, hoping that he was not too late to secure it.

(First Transformation.)
Flossy’s scream was occasioned by a double cir-

cumstance. The teapot on the table grew limp and
*

14. THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

settled down into amass of silken drapery. It had
changed suddenly into the costume which Flossy
had been wearing. Atthe same time her right arm,
which she had raised to her head, stiffened, and she
was unable to lower it, the left, which she had ex-
tended involuntarily, was paralyzed in that po-
sition, and she felt her own form changing into a
dumpy round shape, while the silken dress hard-
ened into adamant, the tints and patterns only re-
maining the same. She looked at the mirror and
saw that her features were transforming, her head
sinking in, the eyes disappearing, the lips losing
themselves in a wrinkle until the change was com-
plete. She had become a teapot! Flossy laughed
merrily, the idea was so funny; but her laugh had an
unnatural gurgling sound like the boiling of water.

“ T wonder how long I shall stay so,” she said to
herself. “Until somebody tries to make tea in me,
I suppose. I wonder whether Mr. Rose will put
me over the gas-stove and make some for lunch.”
The idea was rather appalling, and she hoped that
he would not doso. She sat very quietly after that

looking at the other bits of porcelain and wonder:
FLOSSY TAKES A JOURNEY. 1§

ing whether they too were enchanted maidens, un-
til Mr. Rose flung open the studio door and strode
into the room in a manner which betokened tri
umph. He held in his hand the coveted vase, and
he had brought with him an almond-eyed, dark-
skinned stranger, who, although he was dressed
' like an American, was unmistakably a Japanese.:

“Yes,” Mr. Rose remarked, evidently continu-
ing a conversation, “I have already some nice bits
of the art of your country, which I shall be pleased
toshow you. Flossy! Whereis the child? Ah!
she has placed the costume on the table ; but how
careless in her to leave this teapot on the floor
(lifting Flossy by one arm as he spoke). Let me
see, where shall I put this? I must have my new
vase on the shelf, and really I have no room for
this little object now.”

“May I see it?” the strange gentleman asked, and
Mr. Rose placed Flossy in his hand. He looked
at her attentively turning her around slowly and not
taking any great interest in the other articles which
Mr. Rose showed him. Just as he was leaving he

asked, “‘ Have you ever made tea in this teapot ?”
16 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

“No,” replied Mr. Rose, “I feared I might in:
jure it.”

The stranger smiled significantly. “I need not
have asked,” he said, “you were quite right, you ©
would have had no teapot left. I sail to Japan to-
morrow, and have taken a fancy to this object,
will you sell it?”

“You may take it freely,” replied Mr. Rose,
“ and I shall in turn be obliged to you if you can
pick up for me something in the way of costume.”

The stranger bowed, and wrapping Flossy care-
fully, carried her away. She felt sure from what
he had said that he knew her secret, and she
looked forward with curiosity to future events.
Many days passed before Flossy was unwrapped.
When she saw the light once more she knew she
was in Japan. She recognized the funnel-shaped
mountain of Fusiyama, which she had seen painted
upon so many fans, and the storks that the Japan-
ese are so fond of repeating in their decoration.

She was placed upon a square of matting in a little
booth, and the stranger had stretched before her

a tight rope. He was lighting some charcoal in a
FLOSSY TAKES A JOURNEY. - 17

brazier, and when it was wellignited he spoke to
her.

“Bubbling Teapot,” he said, “I have found you
at last. Know that I am the magician, your former
owner. Know that I have travelled in search of
you over two continents, and having found you Iam
not likely to lose you again. For although it is in
your power, when a girl, by weeping to change your-
self into a teapot at any time when you are discon-
tented with your condition, you can only be changed
from a teapot to a girl again by being boiled over
a fire—and that I shall be careful not todo. Rise,
therefore, and dance upon the tight-rope as I taught
you to do in years past.”

He ceased, and began beating a drum. Flossy
was frightened, but would neither move nor speak.

“Dance, obstinate teapot,” commanded the ma-
gician, “or I will place you over this brazier!”

“ That is only an idle threat,” Flossy replied, for .
she found that she could speak, though only to the
magician and when he willed it; “for if you boil
me I will change into a girl.”

“Tf I dod you, yes — but if I give you no water
18 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

but simply burn you, no, ‘Will you dance or not?”

Flossy rocked from side to side in an agony of
fear, and seeing that she made an attempt to obey
him, the magician poised. her carefully upon the
tight-rope. Then tilting the teapot gently with his

_ finger he set it.to. swaying in time to his drum, and
alternately lifting either end of the rope he allowed
it to slide backward and forward. “ That will do,”
he said at length. “I see you have not forgotten.
I shall take you to-night to perform before a rich
daimio. Dance your prettiest, or, by the great Ti
Fun, I will not only burn you, but break you to
atoms.”

Flossy travelled with the magician for many
months. They performed at the country fairs sur-
rounded by the populace and at the court of grand
personages. The children especially were glad to
see the performing teapot and in the children
Flossy was most interested. They were all grave
little creatures ; the girls especially seemed to have
little to make life happy except upon the Feast of
Dolls which occurred but once a year. It was

natural that the children of the poor should have
FLOSSY. TAKES A JOURNEY. 19

their privations, but Flossy was shocked when she
sawone delicate little girl, the daughter of a rich
daimio, submitted to cautery, or the torture of hav-
ing little pith cones burned upon her flesh for some
trifling pain, for which Flossy would have received

a dose of homeopathic medicine. °
“T would not like to be’ a Japanese ‘child, but
if I could see China,” she ‘said to herself, “I am
sure that the mandarins’ children there, and the
little princes and princesses have better times.”
And strangely enough it happened that the ma-
’ gician was called upon to perform before a Chinese
lady of rank who was visiting in Japan. She was
the wife of a wealthy grandee as ugly as the horri-
ble two-toed dragons which were embroidered on his
robes as asure proof of his rank and consequence ;
but he was as kind and indulgent as he was ugly,
and his greatest happiness was to gratify the whims

_ of his beautiful wife.

Her name, which was a long one when translated,
signified “The Fair One, whose-nails are transpar-
ent as fish scales, as long and curling as the tendrils

of the vine, and as exquisitely tintéd as rose-leaves.”
20 THE BUBBLING.TEAPOT.

As this is rather too long a name to be mentioned
frequently, we will speak of her as The Long-
nailed Fair One. Her finger nails were indeed of
extraordinary length and were encased in beauti-
fully engraved silver shields. She was surrounded
with every luxury which Chinese art could execute.
The finest porcelain, the richest satins exquisitely

embroidered, elaborately carved teak-wood futni-

ture, lacquered ware and bronzes, vases of jade, .

statues of ivory, perfumes and dainties, and beau-

tiful flowers filled the rooms of the palace, and yet

the pampered little lady was not happy. She had ©

lost a little daughter and since that bereavement
had fallen intoa deep melancholy.

_ Her husband, hoping to distract her, had taken
her on a journey to Japan and here everything that
was curious or remarkable was shown her. She
had the finest singers and dancers among her

women, and everything that it was possible for

them to devise was done to enliven her spirits, but ©

allinvain. Atlast some one suggested the perform-.

‘ing teapot, and the magician was introduced to her

presence.


FLOSSY TAKES A JOURNEY. aI

She watched the motions of the magician with a
listless air, for she was familiar with the tricks of all
the Chinese jugglers and they had ceased to enter-
tain her. But Flossy was smitten with a sudden
love and pity for this beautiful, sad woman. “If
I were only a little girl I would comfort her,” she
thought ; “and as her daughter I would certainly
find the Child’s Paradise.” So she bobbed about
upon her rope in the most comical manner possible,
jerking so enthusiastically in time to the “tom
tom,” of the drum, that the grand lady was inter-
ested in spite of herself. “I want the teapot for
my own,” she said, as a spoiled child might have
done who was accustomed to have all it desired.

“Impossible,” replied the magician hastily gath-
ering together his wares for departure.

“Itell you I want it, and I will have it,” the lady
cried in a high temper, and her slaves put the ma-
gician out of the palace without any more ceremony.

When the Mandarin, the husband of The Long-
nailed Fair One, heard the story he was indignant
that the magician should have refused to sell the

teapot ; but he was also a little apprehensive lest,
22 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

as they were strangers in the country, the fellow
might prejudice the magistrates against them, and
he advised his wife to return immediately to Pekin.
They set out that very afternoon, travelling in jin-
riki-shas—-a word which may be literally trans-
lated pudi-man-cars ; for they were carriages drawn
by men, and ferried over the rivers by elephant-
prowed boats drawn by strong swimmers. Through-

out the entire journey the lady held and caressed

the precious object which she had coveted and -

stolen. Her ladies admired the teapot greatly and
discussed whether it was of Hizen, Satsuma, Kaga
or Kiyoto manufacture, without being able to settle
either the period or the factory in which it was
made. Almond Blossom, one of the ladies-in-wait-
ing, appointed to hold a gay umbrella over the head
of the Long-nailed Fair One was soundly scolded
if the teapot was exposed to the sun. Pheasant’s
Eye, whose duty it was to fan the lady, was sent

from her presence in disgrace, because by an inad-

vertent movement she had nearly upset the newidol, .

and Nightingale’s Throat was kept constantly on

her knees before it as its especial guardian.
FLOSSY TAKES A JOURNEY. 23

With all this care, it certainly Was very inconsid-
erate and even ungrateful in Flossy to refuse to
dance for her kind owner ; but great was that lady’s
disappointment on her arrival in her own home to
find that none of them could make the teapot per-
form. Evidently the magic was in the magician and _
not in the teapot, for when placed on a tight-rope
it merely fell off as an ordinary piece of porcelain
would have done and was only saved from destruc-
tion by being caught in the long sleeve of The Long-
nailed Fair One.

“ Since we can not make it perform,” that lady
exclaimed in a high temper, “it shall be degraded
to the offices of an ordinary teapot; and you,
Pheasant’s Eye, may make me a cup of tea in it at
once, for I am quite fatigued with my exertions.”

Flossy’s delight at these words knew no bounds.
She had foreseen precisely what would happen and
this was why she had obstinately refused to dance,

.and she could scarcely refrain from turning a
somersault for joy when Pheasant’s Eye proceeded
to slowly fan the coals in the little chafing-dish, and

filled her with clear water. She did not even
24 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

shudder when placed over the fire, for the heat
caused her no pain but sent a warm thrill of pleas-
ure through her entire being. She seemed over-
flowing with merriment and began suddenly to
laugh heartily — she was actually boiling —the lid
flew up, and Pheasant’s Eye shrieked so loudly that
the other ladies hobbled in as quickly as their lit-
tle deformed feet would permit; for the cloud of

steam which had issued suddenly from the teapot ,

had condensed into a pretty little Chinese girl, and
the teapot itself had disappeared.
CHAPTER II.
IN A CHINESE HOME,
(Second Transformation.)

LOSSY’S wish was now gratified ; she was
the daughter of the Long-nailed Fair One,
her father a mandarin of the order of the Two-
toed Dragon,
The Chinese lady looked at her in rapture. “ My
daughter!” she cried, “my own little Boo-hi-ski!”
There was a great deal more to the name, as there
was to the mother’s. Fully translated, it signified
“The child with a balloon instead of a heart, which
causes her to soar above all human sorrow, and to
dance among the stars.” For convenience’s sake
we will designate the balloon-hearted child simply
as Hi Ski.

“My adored Hi Ski!” exclaimed the happy
a
26 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

mother, “have you indeed come back to me
again?” And the mandarin’s wife threw her
arms around Flossy’s neck and wept for joy; for
contrary to all Chinese tradition she had loved
her little daughter as well as if she had beena
son. The Chinese say,

When a son is born
He sleeps on a bed;
He is clothed in robes;
He plays with gems;
_ His cry is princely and loud!
But when a daughter is born
She sleeps on the ground;
She is clothed with a wrapper;
She plays with a tile; :
She is incapable either of evil or good;
It is hers only to think of preparing wine and food,

And of not giving any occasion of grief to her parents.

The Two-toed Mandarin had a son, the child of
a former marriage ; but the boy’s mother was dead,
and the mandarin had married the Long-nailed
Fair One, and, although it was very improper of

him, he loved their little daughter Hi Ski quite as


IN A CHINESE HOME.” 27

well as his gem-wearing loud-crying son. Every
luxury which the Celestial. Empire could furnish
was accordingly lavished upon Flossy whom. both
parents supposed to be their lost daughter.

Their home was one of the elegant country-
houses near the great city of Pekin. It was built
in the light and airy Chinese style, with projecting
roofs gayly painted, and was surrounded with gar-
dens of blossoming quince, plum, pear, mulberry,
peach and other trees. Many of these fruit trees
had been dwarfed so that they grew in flower-pots
and seemed to Flossy “too cunning for anything ;”
and there were artificial lakes where gold fish
swam,. and beside which queer birds stalked.
There were artificial mountains too, which did not
seem to Flossy quite as beautiful as the natural
hills of America, though they had been constructed
with infinite pains.

Everything was so new and curious that for a
time Flossy watched the life about her with inter-
est —the rice fields, the cultivation of the silk-
worms, the tea-gardens and opium farms; and when

they rode into town all the bustle and racket of
28 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT,.

the dirty, disorderly city. She was taken to see
the great China wall, thirty-six feet high and forty
feet broad, which stretches away for over a thou-
sand miles to the north of the empire; a rampart
against the barbarian hordes. There were ramps
on the inside, so that cavalry could ride to the
summit, and six horsemen could. pace abreast on
the top. The Buddhist temples interested her also
with their ugly idols and strange ceremonies. She
was very inquisitive to learn all she could about
the new religion, but was highly indignant when
told by her brother (whose name if literally trans-
lated would fill a page, but whom we may call
‘ for short,” the Dragon-clawed, elephant-tusked,
lion-throated P sarer) that women had no souls.

“No souls!” she exclaimed, “then why must I
worship our ancestors, and burn incense before
the images?” A

“ Because,” replied the Long-nailed Fair One,
“if you are very good you may be permitted to
be born again, and may then happen to be a boy _
and have a soul.”

“ Ridiculous! ” said Flossy.
:



IN A CHINESE HOME. 29

“ Fi Ski!” said her mother reprovingly.
“T want to read about it,” said Flossy, “or go to
Sunday-school, and see if you are not mistaken.”

“TI was carefully instructed in my youth,” said

the Long-nailed Fair One; “more so than most Chi-

nese women. If you would like to learn to read
you may do so, though it is not customary for girls.”

“Of course I want to read,” Flossy replied. “It
is very stupid to play all day by one’s self, and I
want to read some fairy stories.”

Flossy found learning to read in Chinese the
most difficult study she had ever attempted; but
she struggled bravely on, for in her own home
she was an insatiable reader of story-books. No
Paradise could be quite perfect to Flossy without
her Hans Andersen and Alice in Wonderland. She
missed them now vaguely, but in her transmi-
gration had forgotten just what they were. She
mastered the weary printed language a great deal
more rapidly than her stupid brother. The sepa-
rate characters for each word were very hard to
remember, and it did seem as if the Roarer forgot

one for every new one which he learned. He was
30 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

only expert in kite-flying, and had no love for
books,. though he was given the best of instruc-
tors.

When Flossy had learned to read, she asked for
the most interesting book in the language, and her
expectations were quite high, for she remembered
that Mr. Rose had said that Aladdin was a Chinese
story. When her mother presented her with a
volume bound in gold brocade, called Zhe Girls’
Book, and written by Tsau-ta-ku, ages ago, she

opened it eagerly. Tt began:

This girls’ Classic is the instruction of a woman; let the
girls attend to it!

Every day rise early at the fifth watch; do not sleep until
the sun is bright. With an old handkerchief cover up your
hair; go quickly and sweep the veranda. Brush your hair

bright.

Flossy had lost her fluffy blorde curls, and had
now very straight and coarse black hair which she
wore in shining bands oiled and perfumed with
great care, and decorated with flowers and great.

hairpins as big as skewers.




FLOSSY TANGLESKEIN AS THE CHINESE GIRL, HI SKI.
IN A CHINESE HOME, “33

~~” Wash your face clean; soon go into the hall and use your
needle. Depict the peacock ; embroider the phoenix; work

the mandarin ducks.

This embroidery seemed at first great fun, but
Almond Blossom, who gave her lessons, was so
very particular, and so much shocked with her long
Kensington stitches, that Flossy at length voted the
peacock, the pheenix, and the mandarin ducks, the

most disagreeable birds in the world...

Do not laugh loudly, or callin a loud tone. When you
walk neither skip nor jump. Ateight and nine youare grow-
ing older; you should love yotic elder and younger brothers,
and share with them your tea, rice, wine or meat; do not

quarrel if your part is less than theirs.

Flossy read this with some indignation. “Must I,
give up everything to this stupid pig-tailed brother ?”
she said to herself. “When I was an American . ©
child I used to hear Mrs. Rose tell Ruby that boys
were put into the world especially to be nice and
helpful to girls, Ruby was a lovely boy; he used
to carry my satchel to school, and let me stamp on
all his percussion caps when he had any to fire off

instead of enjoying the noise himself.”
34 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT,

The Roarer, Flossy’s new brother, had been very .
selfish with his fire-crackers and had even com-
plained because she was allowed to see the pro-

cession of the Feast of Lanterns.

At ten years old do not idle about, but diligently make
shoes or seams. Early and late sit with your mamma, and
do not leave the house without cause.

The first doctrine is that you must obey; the second good
thing is to respect your elder brother and his wife; the third
important thing is, do not waste rice or flour; be careful of

the soy, vinegar, oil and salt.

“Well, of ‘all uninteresting books!” exclaimed
Flossy. “ Haven’t you anything more entertaining
than this?” ,

“No,” replied her mother, “that is the only book
I know of suitable for girls. I told you that it was
hardly worth your while to learn to read.” |

It would take too long to relate all the persecu-
tions which Flossy endured from her selfish brother ;
suffice it to say that he fully availed himself of all
the advantages to which hissex entitled him. One
was the choice of dishes on the bill-of-fare. There

were many articles of food prepared in the Chinese
IN A CHINESE HOME, 35

style of cookery which Flossy found very nice and
appetizing ; for instance sponge cake stuck all over
with almond meats and moistened with milk, and
various marmalades and preserves ; but there were
others which seemed to her disgusting. The Roarer
insisted on ordering every dinner, and he took a
malicious delight in leaving out the rice custards
and fruits which Flossy enjoyed, and insisting on
the messes which she could not eat. The following
was his favorite bill-of-fare rarely varied except by

necessity : \

Birds’ nest Soup.
Ducks’ feet Soup.
Puppies’ Brains.
Sharks’ Fins.
Roof of pig’s mouth.
Mouse stew with bamboo sprouts.
® Eels with onions and chutney.

Tea served in Chinese style.

This insufferable boy became more and more ex-
asperating every day; still Flossy might have borne
it but for another species of torture to which she

was subjected. The size of her daughter's feet
36 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

greatly distressed the Long-nailed Fair One, and
the ladies-in-waiting were. instructed to bandage
them that they-might be reduced to the fashiona-
ble size. Flossy was a brave little girl, and she
tried to bear the pain as best she might, but it
grew more and more intolerable. . She. could not
‘enjoy the. beautiful gifts which her fond mother
-was continually lavishing upon her, or the novel
sights which she saw from her elegant palanquin.
She envied the poor coolies who carried her, and
who planted their huge, flat-soled feet with such em-
phasis upon the pavement, while her own, swathed
in perfumed silk, racked her frame with pain.
At length she could endure it no longer. “This
is no Child’s Paradise;” she cried. “I had rather
be an American girl and wear gingham instead of
crépe and silver tissue.” Her sorrowful wail ended
in violent sobbing, and Flossy found herself, muth
‘(Third Transformation.)
to her surprise, not a teapot, as the magician had
told she would be if she wept, but restored to her
own original shape, seated in Mr. Rose’s studio

with. one foot fast asleep from having been curled
-

IN: A CHINESE: HOME. 37.

up beneath her. She sprang from the chair and
hopped about the room until circulation was fully
restored. Was it only a dream induced from her
uncomfortable position ? She: was inclined at first
to think so; but afterward when similar experi-
ences were renewed, she believed that some condi-
tion of the wonder-working. charm was unfulfilled,
so that instead of passing into the teapot stage she
was restored at once to her old life.

‘The robe of many colors, which had at first ex-
cited her admiration and envy, lay upon the model-
stand beside the curious teapot, and Flossy gently
lifted the piece of porcelain to her cheek. “I won-
der whether it knows,” she thought; “whether it
is as glad to be ¢# once more as I am to-be I.”

But Flossy was not altogether cured of her bad
habit of dissatisfaction. “I chose a bad country,”
she said to herself. “If the magician had only car-
ried the Bubbling Teapot to some land where they
do not torture little girl’s feet, and where dreadful
boys are not so highly esteemed, and the food not
so outrageous, I do not believe I would ever have

wished myself back again.”
38 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

She slipped on the little Breton costume which
Mr. Rose wished to paint, and stretched her feet
luxuriously in the roomy sabots.

“Tf I had only been sensible enough to have
wished myself a French peasant,” she thought; “I
wonder whether it is too late now; I wonder where
Mr. Rose has gone, and why he does not come
back and finish his picture. That chateau is very
natural; he must have been painting on it while I
was asleep. How gray the sky is, like our Indian
summers, and what finely painted turkeys! You
can almost see them move.”

While Flossy thought this, one of them actually
did move. A gallant gobbler, with a breast shin-
ing with iridescent metallic colors, gravely stepped
over the lower edge of the picture-frame and ap-
proached her with a dignified swinging stride.
Flossy felt her head turning dizzy; the whole
studio seemed circling round and then vanished
completely. She was seated on the grass in the
meadow, with the turkey looking her solemnly in
the face. The chateau with the gabled roof re-

mained clear and real above the trees of the park,
IN A CHINESE HOME. ; 39

and the suit of clothes which she wore was the
same which Mr. Rose had lent her. She compre-
hended the situation at once; her wish.had been
granted and in this fourth transformation she had

become a Breton peasant child.



Norts.— The two extracts from Chinese authors are taken from an ar- ~
ticle published in Lz/e and Light for Woman, May, 1879.—L. W. C.
CHAPTER III.
_THE LITTLE BRETON PEASANT,
(fourth Transformation.)

be had only a vague idea of peasant life.

She had seen peasant costumes at a fancy-
dress party, and thought them pretty. She had
seen pictures of peasants at the exhibitions and in
books; the queer chairs with carved backs were so
picturesque, and even the clumsy kitchen utensils
were quaint and interesting, the copper and brass
shone so brightly in the dark backgrounds, and
the rough pottery was usually gaudily painted and
made bright spots on the dresser. Then the stories
which she had read and which Mr. Rose had told
her of enchanted forests and gnomes and trolls
were intimately connected with peasant-life and al-

together it seemed to her the most delightful thing
; ae
THE. LITTLE BRETON PEASANT, 41

in the world'to be a peasant ; and of all peasantry
in the world surely that of France was the most
" favored.

And now Flossy knew she was changed into -
just such a little peasant. Her hair was tucked
under a queer little white cap. There was the blue
petticoat, and the full white sleeves, and the silver
necklace, the long knitted stockings and the wooden
sabots. They felt very comfortable, and Flossy
stretched herself lazily in the marguerite-starred
grass and laughed softly to herself for very joy.
“This is very peculiar,” she said to herself, “but it

- is also very nice. “I am sure I shall have no occasion
to cry here. This must be somewhere in Brittany,
for the landscape is similar to the sketches which.

Mr, Rose made there. Now let me see what I know
about the country, I can just see how it looks on
the map; it is that port of France which juts out
into the Atlantic Ocean like a cat’s head. It is
bounded on the west by the Atlantic Ocean, on the
north by the English Channel, on the east by the
provinces of Normandy, and Maine, on the south

by Anjou and Poitou and the Atlantic.. Its principal
42 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

towns are, Brest and Morlaix and Vannes and
Saint something-or-other — J don’t believe, however,
that any one here will examine me on the geography
of the country, and if they do I presume I know as
much about it as any of the inhabitants. I wonder
where I live. Perhaps in that chateau, for I don’t
see any other house near. I think I will go and
see,”

Flossy accordingly climbed over the low stone
wall and walked through the great park toward the
chateau. It was filled with tall trees, dark and
gloomy, a real forest such as the grands seigneurs
of France reserved for their hunting-grounds. A
bridle-path appeared to lead in the direction of the
chateau, and she followed it until the pointed roof
and turrets appeared and she caught a glimpse
through an opening in the trees of a milk-white pony
standing on the terrace and of a little girl no taller
than herself in a green velvet dress coming down
the stone steps with a riding whip in hand. Then
a sudden turn in the road brought her face to face
with a poacher. She knew he was a poacher, for

he was cramming a rabbit into a gunning sack. He
THE LITTLE BRETON PEASANT, 43

started with fear when he heard Flossy’s step upon
the dry leaves, but he seemed to recognize her face,
for his expression changed to one of ugly ma-
lignity.

“Why have you followed me, Babette?” he asked.
“Go drive your turkeys home and never dare vent-
ure inside the park again. Do you think that you
are a grand lady,or that it was intended for poor peas-
ants such as we are?” .

Flossy obeyed humbly; something told her that
this unpleasant-looking man was her father for the
present, and though she did not like his appearance
ARS felt that it would be of no use to object to the
fact. She returned to the field, collected her turkeys,
and then was at a loss in which direction to drive
them. She determined to trust to their sagacity, and
as they started off at a good pace she followed them
until they stopped in the dooryard of a stone cot-
tage with a thatched roof, Flossy saw that this cot-
tage with the outbuildings picturesquely huddled .
about it, would have made a pretty painting, but
that the yard was sloppy, the walls dirty, and it

was avery poor home indeed. A peasant woman,
44 . THE BUBBLING TEAPOT,

with coarse hands but a kind face, was coming in

: from the barn with two foaming pails of milk. “Put
up the turkeys, little Babette,” she said pleasantly ;
“thou shall have thy cup of milk and crust of black
bread on the doorstep, and I will tell thee the story
of the Golden Basin.” Flossy hastily penned her
turkeys, and taking her porringer sat down at the.
woman’s knee.

“Tt is by such stories as these, my -cherished
one,” her new mother said kindly, “that we poor
people keep up our hearts ay, and fill our stomachs.
Many is the time when I have had nothing to eat but
a crust of bread spiced with a nasturtion leaf, when
it seemed a sumptuous banquet for the stories that
my mother told me; and this story of the Golden
Basin was always my favorite.

“Once upon my time then, my little cabbage, a
thousand years ago and more, there lived a certain
Yvon, who had plenty of straw in his sabots.” [This
was the good woman’s way of expressing the fact
that Yvon was rich and lived comfortably.] “He
had also a beautiful daughter named ‘Bella. Bella

had many suitors, but Yvon would say to all










FLOSSY TANGLESKEIN AS BABETTE THE LITTLE BRETON PEASANT.

_ THE LITTLE BRETON PEASANT, 47

fo them, ‘Bella shall be the bride of the Golden
Basin. She-is promised to the man who can carry
away from the castle of Kerivaro the basin which
changes everything with which it is filled to gold,’

“ Many departed: on this quest but none returned.

“One evening-a young peasant, beautiful.as an
angel and good as a saint, who was returning from
a pilgrimage sat down to rest on Yvon’s doorstep.
He fell in love with. Bella, like all the rest, and what
"was more to the purpose, Bella was equally.charmed
with him, and he departed in search of the basin
leaving her in tears. -As the youth, whose name
was Lanik, journeyed, he noticed flying before him
a sky-blue pigeon, and following it he soon came in
sight of the towers of the castle. He trembled when
he saw that the walls were an hundred feet high, and
that perched upon the only gate stood a korrigan,
‘or hideous black dwarf, with one eye in the middle
of his forehead, and one in the back of -his head,
and that this ugly creature held a long lance in his
hand. Lanik continued, however, to approach until
suddenly the lance of the dwarf darted out to such.

a length that it nearly touched him. Petrified with
48 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

fright, Lanik stood still, but the blue pigeon began
to warble so gayly that the black dwarf’s attention
was turned. The bird continued its singing, trill-
ing forth such a lively air that the dwarf began to
dance. Faster and faster piped the music and the
dwarf’s legs fairly twinkled in time to it until, utterly
exhausted, he sank upon the rampart and fell asleep.
A huge bunch of keys dropped from his hand, the
lance clashed to the ground and its head rolled off.
Lanik picked up both, unlocked the gate and en-
tered the castle. He saw an immense court and in
the centre a three-headed dragon. The place was
strewn with the bones of those who had come in
search of the Golden Basin. Lanik threw the lance-
head at the dragon, who mistaking it for a cake
swallowed it instantly. Cold steel did not agree
with the creature’s digestion and it fell to the ground
in the agonies of death. Lanik then went through
the castle finding no more terrors to test his bravery,
but tables spread with dainties, and heaps of glitter-
ing jewels. He resisted all these temptations, seized
only the Golden Basin and darted out of the castle

without once looking behind. In the place where he
THE LITTLE BRETON PEASANT. 49

had left the blue pigeon he found a good fairy who
gave him her blessing and disappeared in a blue
cloud. Looking up he saw that the Castle of Keri-
varo had also disappeared, but the Golden Basin re-
mained, and Yvon was glad to receive it in exchange
for Bella whose heart proved a golden talisman to
her husband, and the love with which it was filled
a treasure more precious than jewels or gold.”

It seemed to Flossy that she had listened many
an evening before to stories at this new mother’s
knee, of elves and korrigans and other enchanted
beings, while the kindly woman knit long gray
stockings from coarse yarn. Days passed, and she
learned to love the hard-working simple peasant
woman dearly, and most of all to love the twilight
hour when the turrets of the chateau were silhou-
etted darkly against the tender afterglow left by
the sunset, and she could almost discover the fairies
peeping at her through the dusk. There was John
Redthroat, the obliging bird, who helped little
Snowdrop through all her difficulties, the Queen of
the Pearl Islands who changed her lovers to fish,

the korils of the Fairy Copse who compelled be-
50 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

lated travellers to dance all night with them, and
enchanters with wands of witch-hazel. They were
all very real to Flossy ; and sometimes after hear-
ing the wonderful tales of the Cow of the Sea and
other bewitched animals, she would fancy that their
own black cow was a fairy in disguise and that she |
might take hold of her tail and wish herself beyond
seas only to have the animal start off and swim over
_to Jersey or Guernsey, or some other of the Channel
Islands, from whence it was possible her ancestors
had come in by-gone days. But when Flossy at-
tempted the spell, old Black kicked viciously, nat- '
rowly missing Flossy’s forehead and sending the
pail of foaming milk to grief. That was a sad ex-
periment, but Flossy’s mother believed so thor-
oughly in enchantments herself that she did not chide
her littlédaughter for the mishap. She told her a
new fairy story to céiigole her, of Barbaika the dairy-
maid of Morlaix, for whom the elves churned butter,
scoured milk-pans, baked bread, washed the churns,
covered the butter-pats with linen dipped in the
running brook, and left cherries on her platters and

gold pieces in her apron pockets. In return Bar-
THE LITTLE BRETON PEASANT, 51

baika was to set out a feast for the helpful fairies
in the barn. She did so; but out of pure malice
strewed hot cinders around the table which scorched
their feet almost to the bone. “And that is the
reason,” said Flossy’s mother, “ why elves come no

more to Brittany, for they went away singing:

Barbaika, the shrew,
The bad wife of Jegu,
By her wicked deceit
Burned our poor little feet,
So no more may we dwell
In the green fairy dell ;
_ But we leave our black ban on the barn and the dairy

And we leave Barbaika the curse of the fairy.”

Flossy wondered if she could coax the fairies
back by setting out a feast for them in their cow-shed,
but she was always so very hungty at mealtime that
it was hard to spare a crumbeof the coarse black
bread. She did so one day, however; she covered
the milking-stool with a clean white kerchief, set
acorn cups and saucers upon it, with crumbs of
bread and a few small sweet strawberries. But the.

greedy turkeys flew in through a little window and
52 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

devoured the supper; and Flossy never heard from
the elves, |

Her mother was deeply religious as well as cred-
ulous, and knew many legends of the saints and
miraculous tales about the sacred image in the little
church, which Flossy found quite as interesting as
that of the good-natured elves who helped the dairy-
maids with their cheese. One day, the festival of
her patron saint, the good woman took her little
Babette on an excursion on the river Laitu.

The father had borrowed a boat for this trip and
had agreed to row them, but the temptation of the
cabaret, or low drinking shop, was too much for him
and he had slipped away to spend the day drinking
strong cider with his boon companions. The peasant
woman’s arms were strong and muscular, and put-
ting Flossy in the stern with the basket of crepes, or

fried cakes, which were to serve as luncheon, she

+ took the oars aad sped away on the tranquil stream

to the ruins of the castle of the Comte de,Commore.
They could trace only the foundations of the old
chateau with its four massive towers and its terrible

donjon. The fosse was overgrown with grass and
THE LITTLE BRETON PEASANT. 53

wild flowers, and Flossy frolicked in it and skipped
across it withaut the aid of a drawbridge. She looked
through a rusty grating into what must have once
been a dismal prison, and fancied she saw a ghost
flit through the darkness.

“Tt may well be,” said her superstitious mother
crossing herself, “for this castle was one of the
residences of the famous Comte de Commore, the
terrible lord who murdered his wives, and made no
exception of Sainte Triphine, his last bride, who was
the sister of Saint Gildas and daughter of the Count
of Vannes.”

It was really another version of Blue Beard, that
story which belongs to so many countries, but it_
seemed like authentic history here beside the ruins
of the ancient castle. »

After eating their luncheon they floated down the
river to the deserted monastery of St. Maurice, and
the mother’s legends took on a still more gloomy
character. By the time they reached home the
towers of the chateau in the park were turned to
gold in the sunset glory. “And the people in the.

chateau?” Flossy asked.
54 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

“Ah! those others. Their life is as different
from ours as that of the saints in Paradise,” said
her mother meekly.

This féte-day had been an exceptional one for
Flossy and her mother. Not often were they allowed
awhole day’s holiday. All through the heat of har-
vest they labored side by side in the fields begin- ©
ning at daybreak, and returning to their poor home
at night with heavy, baskets of potatoes. Some-
times they went to the seacoast and assisted the
men at the fisheries, coming home with heavy
loads of fish. Sturdy as Flossy’s peasant mother
was this labor was too severe for her, and the day
came when she was too ill to rise from her misera-
ble bed. Flossy prepared the poor breakfast, and
waited upon her with ready alacrity, but when her
brutal father bade her clean the stable the spirit of
the American girl within her rebelled. “ That is
man’s work,” she replied, “(and you ought not to
compel me to do it.”

“Tt is your mother’s work,” said the peasant,
“and if you will not do it for her, she must.”

Flossy went to the stable burning with indigna-
THE LITTLE BRETON PEASANT. 55

tion. “Women do not labor like this in America,”
she said to herself. ‘Is there no escape from this
horrible life?” She had forgotten that the way of
_ escape was a very simple one. She had only to
weep to become a teapot, and as a teapot only to boil
to become a girl. “If I were only the little girl at
” the chateau,” she thought, and then, as she saw no
friendly korrigan ready to assist her, she bent to
the disagreeable task. But she was only a sensitive
little girl after all; she felt the degradation of her
present employment more than the drudgery, and
forgetful of the spell which would turn her, if she
wept immediately, into a teapot, she burst into a

passion of weeping.



Note.— The Story of the Golden Basin is tranclated from the French. -
L. W. C.
CHAPTER IV.
AS A SPANISH GIRL.
(fifth Transformation.)

HEN Babette’s hard-hearted father came to
seek her, he found only a pretty teapot
standing on a bundle of straw. “ How did this
come here, I wonder,” he said to himself; and
fearing that some one might come in and answer
the question, he popped it into the combin. There
was to be a fair at Pont-Aven in a few days, and
he determined to carry it there and barter it for
something — something which could be converted
into cider.
The féte wasa grand success. There were gayly-
cecorated booths where gingerbread was sold in
great rolls covered with silver paper; there were

peepshows, puppet-shows, merry-go-rounds, and
56
AS A SPANISH GIRL. 57

footraces and games, and a pavilion for the dancers,
with two fiddlers; and there were mountebanks and
strolling actors, musicians, pedlers and every vari-
ety of the genus tramp. There was even an ori-
ental-looking juggler in a fez cap with a long tassel,
who called himself a pilgrim from Jerusalem, and
sold rosaries, which he said were made from olive-
wood from Gethsemane, and who performed mar-
vellous tricks with paper butterflies which he kept
in the. air with his fan. Babette’s father stood be-
fore him a long time in open-mouthed admiration.

“ Tiens !” he said, “‘ but that is beautiful. How
can he make those little beasts disappear and come
again?”

The juggler noticed him and saw that he carried
something wrapped up under his blouse. “ What
have you there, my friend?” he asked.

“Only a teapot which I wish to sell.”

“A teapot! Let me see it.”

“With pleasure, Monsieur. Is it not adorable?
Monsieur is doubtless from the East and a judge
of such things. If Monsieur will derange himself

to observe the ravishing colors.”
58 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

“ Hold, you rascal!” exclaimed the juggler. “ I
know that teapot well. You stole it out of my cart
when I camped last night in the dingle.” —

Babette’s father turned pale. ‘TI call upon all
the saints to witness that I found it! I am no
thief, your worship.” -

“Get you gone,” replied the other; “or I will
have the gensd’armes yonder arrest you.” Bab-
ette’s father, glad to get off so easily, retreated
hastily; and the magician —for it was indeed he
— bestowed the teapot among his wares, and as
hastily took his departure in an opposite direction.

Flossy’s old life of performing now recom-
menced.. The magician wandered down through
the south of France to Spain. He stopped at every
village and showed his tricks to the peasants, and
sometimes in the market places of great cities.
But Flossy did not find her life as a dancing tea-
pot as hard as it had been in Japan; the magician
was kinder to her, and among all the French chil-
dren who watched her bobbing upon the tight
rope, she saw none whom she envied. Her life as

Babette, the Breton peasant-child, had opened her
AS A SPANISH GIRL, 59

eyes. ‘Since the fairies are all.dead,” she said to
herself, “I would rather be a teapot than a child
in France.” oe

Through the ancient chateau-cities of Touraine;
Blois, Tours, and Chinon, through the qauint streets
of Orleans, Joan of Arc’s town, across the vineyard
region to Bordeaux and the sands of La Manche,
they tramped and camped until they reached the
region of the Pyrenees. And now Flossy began to
look about her with more of interest. The mules
with their gay trappings and jingling bells, the
muleteers with their striped blankets worn so
jauntily, were picturesque, and so were the red-
capped goatherds who skipped as lightly as their
own kids among the chasms of the great mountain-
range.

- But now Flossy was not tempted to wish herself
a peasant of any nation. “When I ama girl again,”
she thought, “I. shall not choose poor parents.
Poverty may be very picturesque, but it is not com-
fortable.”

As they descended into Spain and visited the

wealthy and aristocratic cities of Burgos, Madrid,
60 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

Cordova and Seville, Flossy scanned the faces of
the stately old hidalgos and donnas, looking in
vain for a possible father and mother.

One hot and dusty day as the musician trudged
wearily through the long avenue which led to the
Alameda, a public square of Cordova, Flossy caught
sight of a face to which she lost her heart. A beau-
tiful lady reclined languidly in an open barouche.
She was dressed in the Spanish style, with a lace
veil over a high comb instead of Parisian bonnet,
a white rose was tucked coquettishly behind her
ear, her hair and lashes were very long and dark,
and she held gracefully an enormous fan. Her ex-
pression was so extremely sweet and gentle that -
Flossy quite forgot she was only a teapot, and gave
a sudden leap which threw her out of the magi-
cian’s pack and landed her in the dust of the high-
way. The magician walked on, not knowing that
he had lost his teapot, and Flossy hoped that the
lovely lady might notice her where she lay. Her
heart sank as the barouche rolled away, and an al-
most naked street boy picked her up and carried

her to his squalid home in the lowest part of the
AS A SPANISH GIRL. 61

city. The boy’s mother exclaimed at the sight of
the treasure-trove. “It is doubtless the work of
the Moors,” she said; “none but the sorcerer
Moors could make an object so beautiful, and surely
no person save the Gran Capitan can be rich
enough to own it.”

“We might sell it,” suggested the boy.

is Surely, surely. Come with me, and we will go
to the dwelling of the alcayde; he will give us
good money for this lucky find.”

The woman and her son proceeded to a large
stone house painted pink, with no windows toward
the street, but with a wrought iron gate in an
arched entrance which gave the passers-by a
glimpse of a beautiful court filled with oleanders |
and jasmine, and watered by a tinkling fountain.
A portress admitted them to the presence of the
mistress of the house, a portly dame with spiral
love-locks plastered against her temples, and a dark
moustache on her upper lip. “ Dolores,” said this
strange woman, “these people have a bit of bric-a-
brac to sell. Perhaps you would like to look at it.”

Then, from a reclining chair by the side of the
62 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

fountain, rose the very same lady who had won
Flossy’s heart in the Alameda,

“What have you?” she asked in a silvery voice.

“Tt is a piece of porcelain of the, time of the
Moors,” replied the boy’s mother, “which my son
has dug up on the Guadalquivir back of the great
mosque, near the spot where the Khaliff Anasir
had his golden palace.”

“Santiago grant you pardon,” said the boy. “I
did not find it there at all, but on the avenue lead-
ing to the Alameda.” :

“Hold your tongue,” exclaimed the mother
under her breath, while she proceeded volubly to
praise the workmanship of the teapot which she
declared resembled the best Moorish enamelled
work in the great mosque. Ascertaining her price,
the Lady Dolores purchased the teapot, saying that
it made little difference to her whether it were of
Moorish or Christian manufacture ; its own beauty
was sufficient recommendation. ‘The lady was from
Madrid, and was only visiting in Andalusia. She
left the next day for Seville, and continued her

tour to Granada before returning to her home.
AS A SPANISH GIRL, 63

Everywhere in Southern Spain she was struck by
the Moorish remains, their wonderful metal-work
and porcelain, and above all their fairy architecture.
It-was after a visit to the Giralda, or bell-tower of
Seville, that the lady deeply impressed with the
skill of the Moorish builder was about to refresh
herself with a cup of tea. The servants of the
house happened to be absent, and she decided to
make it herself, “Those old Moors were certainly
magicians,” she said to herself, as she filled the
teapot with water and pfaced it over the fire. “TIE
this teapot could ‘speak, what stories it could tell
of ancient splendors, perhaps of Moorish sultans
and princesses who formerly inhabited this very
city. I wonder if the Giralda was once the home
‘of a Moorish princess. Oh! that it were so, and
_ that she might have been kept alive by some potent

spell, that I might see and speak with her.”
(Sixth Transformation.)

As she finished speaking, the kettle boiled, or
rather exploded like a harmless bombshell, and

Flossy stood before her.
64 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

“Blessed St. Antonio!” exclaimed the Lady
Dolores. ‘“ Are you a Moorish princess?”

“No,” Flossy replied, “I am your little girl.”

The lady shook her head doubtfully. “ But you
were a Moorish princess,” she insisted.

“Perhaps so,” Flossy replied; “I have been so
many persons, that I do not exactly remember.
At all events, I am your little girl now. What are
you going to call me?”

“You are so very fair and white, you shall be
Bianca, my little Bianca.” a ; .

The lady returned to Madrid with her foster
daughter. As they had no children of their own
her husband was very willing to adopt Flossy ; but
they determined to keep between them the secret

of her magical appearance. “We do not know

how this experiment may turn out,” they said to

themselves; ‘we must have her regularly baptized,
and taught the catechism, in order to counteract
any wiles which the Evil One may be planning
against us.”

The family, of which Flossy now found herself

a member, was a very noble one and numbered
AS A SPANISH GIRL. 65

many proud names, Mendoza-y-Diaz-y-Cortez-y-
Manzanilla, all linked together like a train of cars.
They lived in a tall house near the royal palace
and had a little country house toward the Escurial.
Here Flossy was always happy; for there were
gardens and a grange, and she could ride on the
‘back of El Campeador, the trusty old war horse
who had borne her father through the last cam-
paign against the Moors under General Prim, had
served later as carriage horse, but had been excused
from labor in the city on account of his age. El
Campeador had been a proud high-stepping steed
in his day, and.had drawn the cumbrous coach on
state occasions, prancing in step with his mate.
But the othér carriage horse had died, and El Cam-
peador himself was past service and had been
turned out to graze. He was kindly disposed, how-
ever, had never grown vicious, and the children
were never afraid of venturing too near his heels.
He soon learned Flossy’s voice, and would rest his
nose lovingly on her shoulder, and even thrust it
into her pocket in search of bonbons.

It was always a trial to Flossy when they left the
66 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

country, but her father and mother were frequently
required at court, for her mother was one of the
queen’s ladies-in-waiting, and before her marriage
had been one of the noble young ladies selected
to the office of dressing the image of the Virgin at
the Atocha convent, the protectress of the royal
family. Flossy had seen this image, and thought it °
a particularly ugly doll; but it had a wardrobe
which a queen might envy, for it was made up of
the coronation and bridal dresses of the different
queens of Spain. These robes had been shown her ;
magnificent trained gowns of green velvet embroi-
dered with silver, maroon velvet covered with gold
“lace, brocades of every color, milky satins loaded
with point lace — dresses worn by all the queens
of Spain from Isabella the Catholic, to little Mer-
cedes. There were two of this unfortunate child-
queen which touched Flossy most of all; one a
coronation robe embroidered with the arms of
Spain, the other a dainty blue silk of Worth’s
manufacture, encrusted with pearls.
On festival days, the image promenaded the city

in a queer little pickle-jar chariot, which allowed
AS A SPANISH GIRL. 67

the common people to have a glimpse at her mag-
' nificence through its glass doors. Flossy’s mother
told her how it had been her privilege to dress the
image for these rides, and that one day the honor
would be her daughter’s. Flossy had a little girl’s
love of dolls, and though she did not think the
virgin as pretty as any of the thirty-six dolls which
she left in her American home, she still thought it
would be great sport to dress it in.the royal gowns.

One day there was a royal christening at the
convent of Atocha and Flossy was present; and
though it was the grandest ceremonial which she
saw while in Spain, the pomp and parade wearied
her extremely. It had been arranged for her to
return to her own home after the baptism with her
nurse, for her parents were going to the palace;
but in the confusion of departure she was sepa-
rated from the waiting-woman who, concluding that
her master and mistress had changed their mind
and carried the little Bianca to the palace with
them, returned to the city without her. Flossy,
when she missed the nurse, waited for her near

the tomb of General Prim; but the entire congre-
68: THE BUBBLING TEAPOT,

gation passed out and. she was left quite alone.
Then when she attempted to leave the chapel she ©
found, to her dismay, that the door was locked.
She did not cry as another child might have done,
but looked about, trying to ascertain how she
might make the best of circumstances. The vir-
gin gazed at her from her elevated position above
the high altar, and Flossy thought that if she could
ever get her down it would be pleasant.to pass
. away the time by: dressing her. She wandered
into the vestry and found, to her delight, that one
of the wardrobes was urlocked. There was a
step-ladder here too, and a long pole used in light-
ing the altar candles, These Flossy laboriously
dragged into the chapel, and thus succeeded in
gaining possession of the virgin. Then how the
hours flew by! It seemed to Flossy that she had
the very best time that afternoon that she had

enjoyed in any of her transformations. She .
dressed and undressed the image, over and over
again. She even dressed herself in a robe once
" worn by Blanche of Castile, and played house with

the virgin in the wardrobe.




#LOSSY TANGLESKEIN AS BIANCA, THE SPANISH GI"

AS A SPANISH GIRL, 71

“ At last,” said Flossy, “ T have found the Child’s
Paradise. It is in Spain, and I am having lovely
fun.”

Alas! for Flossy. At that very moment the sac-
ristan entered the room and discovered her at her
play. He turned green with rage and horror and,
seizing Flossy by the shoulders, shook her until
she was dizzy.

“What is your name, sacrilegious one?” he
asked, when quite weary of shaking her.

“Flossy Tangleskein,” the ‘child replied when
she could catch her breath.

“Zangalzagein! I know the names of every

Madrid family — there is none such in all Spain.”
_ “I beg your pardon, sir. I forgot, I have had
so many different names, and you shook me so
that it mixed me up. Let me see what is it this
time — Babette? Hi-ski? No. Oh! Iremember.
Bianca Mendoza-y-Diaz-y-Cortez-y-Manzanilla.”

Flossy was hustled home in disgrace. Her
father was deeply mortified, and her . mother
shocked and grieved. The affair would have

created a great scandal had not the sacristan been
72 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

bribed to silence. Donna Dolores and her hus-
band had a long and serious talk together-about
their foster child. Dolores was. convinced that
Flossy’s pagan nature, as a Moorish princess, was
beginning to assert itself; and she trembled for her
future behavior. “And yet, I cannot give her up
to the Church, as I fear me I ought to do,” she
said sadly. “It is true that the holy office of the
Inquisition is abolished, and Mother Church is
more tender to her erring children than formerly ;
but it might be thought best that Bianca: should
adopt a religious life, and I cannot part with my
little girl, for I have learned to love her very
dearly.” oe
“Then there is only one thing left to be done; *
she must be kept out of sight for the present. We
cannot-have her bring disgrace and scandal upon
our family in this way. She must go to the grange,
and be brought up there in strict seclusion.”
When this announcement was made to Flossy,
she could have clapped her hands for joy, had it
not been for the distress which she saw in her

kind mother’s face.
AS A SPANISH GIRL, 73

“You will come to me often, mamma dear, will
you not?” she begged, “and I will be very good,
will study and mind my governess, and try hard
not to grieve you.”

“Sweet one,” replied Donna Dolores, “I ans
afflicted only because you will have so little to
amuse you at the grange.” |

“T shall be very happy, mamma dear, for El
Campeador will be there and I shall learn to ride
him. He lets me climb to his back by pulling my-
self up by his mane, and is so gentle and loving.”

“You shall have El Campeador for your own,
my angel, and I will send out a little blue velvet
saddle with you. It is decided that you are to go
to-morrow after the bull-fight. I have begged that
you may remain to see that beautiful spectacle,
It would be too heart-rending that you should lose
all the festivals in honor of the christening.”

“Ts the bull-fight so very splendid, mamma ? v

“Ah! my sweet one, it is ravishing! the music
and the prancing horses, the velvet suits of the
picadores, the banderiflos all laced in gold, with

satin suits and curled hair, the terrible bulls paw
74 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT,

ing the earth, bellowing, rushing upon their tor-
mentors — Ah! but it is heavenly !”

The next day Flossy attended the bullfight. It
seemed to her that all Madrid went with her; for
the long road from the city. to the amphitheatre
was crowded with vehicles of every sort— the ele-
gant coaches and barouches of the noble and
wealthy, loaded omnibuses bearing people of the
middle class, and every description of cart, dray
and wagon that could be devised to go on wheels.
While those too poor to afford a ride trudged
through the dust on foot. The bull-ring was open
to the. sky, the seats of the spectators circling it
as ina circus. Only those of the upper classes
were shielded from the sun by awnings; but every
one wore their best, and the ladies in their bright
dresses made bouquets of rose-color, yellow, blue
and vivid crimson, while fans moved incessantly
like a flock of restless butterflies.

Presently there was a fanfare of trumpets, and
the triumphal entry of the performers took place.
This part of the spectacie was very brilliant and

imposing. Flossy’s eyes sparkled with excitement.
AS A SPANISH GIRL. 75

_ She did not enjoy so much the next act, where
a furious bull was teased and badgered by jica-
doves ; but when an agile danderillo— a young man
dressed in light green satin embroidered with
’ silver, and further enriched with a rose-colored
sash — performed a number of reckless feats be-
fore the very nose of the infuriated animal, she
could not help admiring his intrepidity and quick
and graceful movement. Each time that the bull
would lunge toward him he would leap aside,
throwing a little dart decorated with ribbons at his
neck, until the poor creature became an animated
pincushion. Finally the matador despatched the
animal with a single stroke of a long sword, and
the body was dragged from the arena by mules
covered with gay trappings and jingling bells.
Flossy shuddered at this, but the band struck up
a gay selection from the Barber of Seville, and the
same programme was repeated with a new bull.

“He was an ugly animal, brindled and long-
horned, with small vicious eyes; and in the very
first round: he killed two horses, mangling them

horribly. Flossy hid her eyes, quite sick with
76 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

disgust, and her father tried to comfort her, say-
ing that the horses were wornout hacks, not good
for anything.

“Oh! how can they treat them so cruelly, when

they have spent their lives in faithful service?”
Flossy cried. “Only think of El Campeador!
How would you like to see him treated so!”
* At that instant one of the prcadores who had
been dismounted entered on a fresh horse. He
was old like the others, and slightly lame; but he
snorted when he heard the martial music and tried
to curvet as he had done at other ceremonials.
“Only see that poor creature!” cried the child.
“They have bandaged his eyes, and he does not
know that he is riding to his death, for he trusts
to his master. See what a long silky mane and
tail— just like El] Campeador, father. Mother it
is E1 Campeador!” And she shrieked aloud.

“Tt is impossible,” exclaimed Donna Dolores.

“No,” replied the father, “itis quite true. The
steward wrote me a few days ago that he had been
offered a handsome sum for him by the pzcadores,

and I wrote him to accept it, for it was much more
AS A SPANISH GIRL, "4

than we could hope to realize for him in any other
way. He would die soon— what does it matter?”

As he spoke, the bull approached the pzcador
warily, and Flossy screamed louder than before in
apprehension, She was sure that the horse recog-
nized her voice, for he wheeled partly around and
neighed joyfully. Then the bull made a sudden
lunge, and horse and rider rolled upon the ground.

Donna Dolores rose to lead her sobbing daugh-
ter from the ring; but as she turned to take het
hand it seemed to her that Flossy must have

slipped out before her, for the child was gone.
She hurried after her and sought her in the crowd
outside, but she was nowhere to be seen.

The janitor of the ring who dusted the seats and
picked up the scattered cigarettes, programmes
and flowers, afterward found a curious teapot in
the stall which the family had occupied; but as
no inquiries had been made for it, he did not

trouble his conscience to seek for its owner.
CHAPTER V.
AT THE GYPSY QUARTER,
(Seventh Transformation.)

HE janitor of the bull-ring carried the teapot

home to his wife Inez, who thought ita great

deal too fine to make tea in, and set it before her

image of St. James to be used as a benitiek—a holy
water can,

There it stood until one day a wild-eyed woman
entered the house. The room happened to be va-
cant; and the gypsy looked around quickly, the
teapot caught her eye, and she had stepped for-
ward with outstretched hand when Inez, hearing
her footfall, entered, and both women looked at
each other with dislike and suspicion. The gypsy
Was the first to speak. She assumed a wheedling

manner and her voice was insinuating in its tone:
78
AT THE GYPSY QUARTER. 49

“ May the blessing of the Zincali await you, beauti-
ful lady, and may you have pity on the poor wan-
derer who has nothing but her wisdom to read the
future, and who does not envy you the high fortune
which she sees in store for you. No, though the
next time we meet the dust of your ladyship’s car-
riage will be whirled in the face of the poor fortune-
teller.”

Inez, who had never ridden in anything more aris-
tocratic than a cake-pedler’s cart, was consumed
with delight and curiosity.

“How much do.you ask for telling-the future?”
she inquired. “I have only a few reals.”

“© beautiful lady, do not hesitate on account of
the cost. I will tell your ventura out of love and
admiration for your sweet face, and you will give
me in return any old scraps of rags or second-hand
crockery which you may like to rid yourself of. Lis-
ten, fair lady; you are on the verge of unexpected
wealth. Your husband is about to be promoted to
a post of great honor. He will also discover a hid-
den treasure, and will clothe you in cloth of gold

and jewels, and this will come true in four moons.”
80 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT,

“When will he find this treasure?”

“It is buried deep under ground in a place which
is daily trodden by hundreds of feet.”

“Yes,” thought Inez, “under the entrance of the
bull-ring.”

“Tt must be dug for at dead of night, yourself
holding the lantern. Nowfor this beautiful fortune
what will my noble lady give me? Some castaway .
dresses and this trumpery teapot which takes up the
place of the elegant silver vase which you will find
inthe buried treasure?” The gypsy strode to the
mantel and placed her hand on the teapot.

“Leave that, woman,” Inez cried so determinedly
that her hand fell. “JI will give it to you when we |
have found the vase, not one moment before.”

“When people achieve success they forget the
friends of their obscurity. You will give me some-
what now for the good fortune, or I will lay on you
the spell of the evil eye.”

She looked malign enough to be able to do this;
and Inez under her stout exterior trembled.

She furtively crossed herself, and taking from her

bosom a small purse at the conclusion of the ges-
AT THE GYPSY QUARTER. 81

ture, handed the gypsya silver coin. ‘ Begone,”
she exclaimed, “I have wasted too much time in
listening to you already.”

A black look came over the gypsy’s face, but
she caught the shadow of a cocked hat on the floor
and knew that a member of the military guard was
sauntering past. Accordingly she thrust the coin
among her rags and slunk away.

That night Inez and her husband hurried to the
bull-ring as the gypsy well knew that they would,
the one bearing a lantern and the other a spade.
They had hardly vanished around the corner when
three shadowy forms darted from as many recessed
doorways, and the little house was. entered.
“There is the teapot,” said the gypsy. “I am
convinced that it is the same one which the strange
brother from over-seas told us to search for and
secure for him.”

One of the men seized it, saying,.“It is full of
treasure most likely. We will divide the booty and
swear that when we found it it was empty. Hold
your hands, both of you.”

The others clustered closely about, and the man
82 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

overturned the teapot. They darted back as they
felt the involuntary baptism. “Bah!” exclaimed
the woman, “‘it is what the Busne call holy water:
it will do us a mischief most likely unless we
repeat some strong spell against it. Let us hasten
from the house.”

So frightened were they by this accident that they
did not wait to make other thefts, but hurried away
with all speed possible, mounting their donkeys
just outside the city and taking the road to the
south, They travelled all night, and two days
after they reached the gypsy quarter of Granada
in the cliffs back of the Alhambra. Little did hex
gypsy captors suspect that this teapot was a meta-
morphosed little American girl. who had read a
great deal of sentimental nonsense about the de-
lights of gypsy life and was very glad to observe it
in disguise.

Flossy found the gypsy quarter a very queer
place. The almost perpendicular cliffs were honey-
combed with caves, in front of which narrow paths
went zig-zagging upand down. Donkeys and mules

were frequently stabled in caves whose further re-
AT THE GYPSY QUARTER, 83

cesses were occupied by their owners. Many of the
caverns were lit up by lurid fires, for blacksmithing
is a favorite gypsy trade. Hordes of half or wholly
naked children scampered like goats up and down
the steep paths.

The cave in which Flossy found herself was at
once a blacksmith shop and an inn. The woman
who had stolen the teapot was assigned a corner
_ where she slept with her head on a pack-saddle.
The family merely rented rooms, their guests go-
ing out for their meals, by which term we may ex-
press the begging excursions which furnished them
food.

One day it inevitably happened that the magical
teapot was placed to boil over the blacksmith’s
forge, and when the woman looked to see if it were
ready she was terrified to find that it had disap-
peared. “It has melted!” she shrieked; “it has
been consumed in the fire. Now when the Strange
Brother. comes from his journeying in the land of
the Moor, I cannot give it to him and claim my re-
ward, Woe betide the day that I ventured under

this roof,”
84 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

She continued her lamentations but did not no-

tice that the horde of little black-eyed gypsy chil-
(Zighth Transformation.)

dren counted one more. Flossy stood among the
others, a little bewildered by the suddenness of
the change, but outwardly quite like the rest, a
brown-skinned child with straight coarse hair, clad
a little more extravagantly than her brothers and
sisters since she wore a white chemise, a blue
flannel petticoat, and a pair of gold earrings, while
among the seven other children only five garments
were distributed.

“Who are. you?” the woman of the house
asked, as Flossy presented herself when the con-
tents of the begging bag were divided. Flossy was
silent, for she did not as yet know her name, and
one of the children said, “She must be Katinka,
the daughter of the woman who died last night.”

“Then,” said the mother, “I will not turn you
off. Go and beg, and as long as you bring me
each night your gains you may sleep with the

children,”
AT THE GYPSY QUARTER. 85

“J shall not do that,” Flossy thought to herself,
“if I can find any other place to sleep.”

Leaving the cave she mounted to the top of the cliff.
There was a church here, and behind the church,
streets. She strolled through them leisurely, some-
times stopping to examine a wayside shrine or to
pick up a bright bit of broken tile from the débris
behind the Alhambra-wall. In the course of her
wanderings she came at last to the great Gate of
Justice, the entrance to the Alhambra. She came
to know the place better as time passed, but at
present she wondered, as any other untutored
child would have done, at the red brick tower
with the horseshoe-shaped portal. She descended
to the city of Granada and wandered through the
market-place, growing more hungry as she went,
but not once begging or complaining. -A fruit-
seller noticing her wistful face threw her a slice of
melon, and this was all her dinner. Days passed
by of which this was the type. She was hungry
often, she underwent many hardships, but she
was perfectly free to wander where she pleased,

the climate was delicious, and when she did not
86 ; THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

care to go home she slept out of doors, and was.
on the whole as happy a little wild animal as ever
burrowed in the thicket.

One day she entered the Alhambra, slipping
by the guard while he flirted with a pretty Spanish
girl, The beauty of this wonderful palace of the
Moors surprised and enchanted her. There were
courts with fountains, long colonnades of arches
decorated with brilliant colors, mosaic pavements
of beautiful patterns, and fairy domes opening into.
each other like clustered soapbubbles.

- Some dim memory was awakened by the sight.
It seemed to Flossy that she had heard or read of
. this place before. An American artist was sketch-
‘ing the Fountain of Lions and she ventured near
enough to peep at his picture. He was not alone,
for a lady. seated beside him was. reading aloud
from Washington Irving’s Zales of the Alhambra.
Flossy listened to a story of a Moorish Princess
who lived in a tower, and heard the artist and his
wife discuss which of the towers of the Alhambra
was probably meant, They looked up, the one
from the story, the other from the painting, and










FLOSSY TANGLESKEIN AS KATINKA, THE GRANADA GYPSY GIRL.















SEER
Seo 5) {

= By



AT THE GYPSY QUARTER, 89

noticed her. Each made an exclamation, “I
must put her in this sketch,” said the artist ; and
he asked Flossy if she would pose for him. The
sum he offered seemed immense to her gypsy
ideas and she readily took the required position.
The lady read many stories during the days that
followed, for Flossy still continued to pose for the
artist. He painted her with tambourine or casta-
nets; dancing, resting, in a number of different
attitudes,

Flossy’s foster-mother was delighted with the
silver coin which she brought every evening, and
Flossy herself became more and more interested
in the stories.

“Tf I had only been born a Moorish Princess!”
she thought to herself, and then she remembered
that her Spanish mother believed that she was one
in disguise.

When she returned to her cave home she inter-
ested her foster-brothers and sisters by telling
them the tales which she had heard, and the older
people gathered about her, listening as well.

Flossy concluded one marvelous story with the
go THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

somewhat startling remark: “ And I know that all
this can be true, for I also ama Moorish Princess.”

A dead silence followed the assertion, Look-
ing up she saw that her foster-mother was squint-
ing horribly, the blacksmith was also squinting,
and every child, down to the youngest baby, rolled
its eyes in an unnatural and disagreeable manner.

“Will your Moorish Mightiness condescend to
descend to the river and fetch me a jar of water?”
said the old crone with a mocking leer._

“Give me a necklace of pearls, Princess?” said
one of the girls.

“A scimitar with a jewelled hilt,” cried the
eldest boy. While those who could not compre-
hend what the jeering was about, still joined in it,
thrusting out their tongues and pointing at her
derisively. Only the blacksmith refrained, and as
she took up the heavy earthen water-pot and
stumbled down the hill to the river, he turned to
his wife with the remark: “ Have a care what you
say ; what she says may be true.”

“Tdiot, have you taken leave of your senses?”

“No more than yourself, my beautiful one.
AT THE GYPSY QUARTER. gi

But do you remember the Strange Brother who
was in our company a year agone, he of the Dar-
Bushi-Fal, who came to us travelling out of the
Land of the Moors?”

“ Remember him, have I not cause to do so?
It was he who told us of the precious teapot hid-
den somewhere in Spain and set my cousin wild
to search for the same, which being found brought _
us only ill luck.”

“ Know then, that the stranger is no true Roma
(gypsy) though he spoke our language, but a
Moor of the sect of Sidi Hamed au Muza, and for
aught I know a descendant of the very kings who
once reigned in the Alhambra.”

“And if that be so, brother, what has it to do
with the child Katinka ?”

“The woman who died and left her was also of
the Dar-Bushi-Fal, travelling out of the land of the
Moors. The child is like the stranger. I believe
that she is his daughter.”

“Tt is likely, brother, your guess is a shrewd
one.”

“Did the woman leave no clothing, or orna-
92 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

ments, anything by which the guess might be
verified ?”

“She brought no bundles with her. Her
money, which was considerable, I claimed for her
burial. There was a key fastened about her neck
by a cord which I have preserved, but I know not
what manner of door it opens.”

The woman brought the key and the man ex-
amined it curiously. He was enough of an expert
in metal-work to know that this was no ordinary
key. It was large, of curious shape, and damas-
cened upon it in gold was an Arabic sentence.

“T have heard,” said the man, “that when the
Moors were driven out of this land by the Chris-
tians they carried the keys of their houses with
them. This poor woman had brought hers back
but died before she was permitted to enter. Give
it to her, daughter; she wanders about the Alham-
bra daily. Tell her to try every coor, and to tell
us when she finds one which it will open.”

Flossy took the key, but she determined that.
she would not tell her gypsy parents if she made

any extraordinary discoveries.
AT THE GYPSY QUARTER. 93

The next day it happened that the reading was
about the unfortunate Prince Boabdil. “It was
from the Tower of the Seven Floors,” said the lady
as she closed the book, “that he left the Alharh-
bra when obliged to surrender it to Ferdinand and
Isabella. He is said to have requested that no
one should be permitted to pass through that gate-
way after him, and it was walled up by Ferdinand.
Our hotel backs against the tower and the owner
has torn down the brick wall which was so senti-
mentally built. The door of the gateway remains
and opens into the hotel garden. I have asked
the landlord to let me have the tower fitted up as
a studio for the rest of the season.”

Flossy’s curiosity was excited. She was sure
that the key would open this door, and one day
when she had been asked to visit the new studio,
she had an opportunity to try the lock. She found
her suspicions true. The gypsies had asked her
from time to time of her success, and to stimulate
her efforts had told her the entire story, so that
when the key turned back the massive bolt in

Boabdil’s door the conviction came upon Flossy
94 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

that she was not a gypsy but, as she ‘had wished,
areal Moorish Priicess. And yet what was the
gain? Even ifshe could prove her descent straight
from the great Muley Abul Hassan, she was a
Moorish Princess of the year of grace 18— and
not of the old and splendid day of which she had
heard. Evidently the charm of which she had the
benefit had no power to roll back the wheels of
time, but could only transport her from country to
country and give her an experience of the life
which now is. To be a Moorish Princess to-day
in the Alhambra was exactly equivalent to being
a barefooted gypsy. She wondered whether it
would not be better in Morocco, the land of the
Moor. If the Stranger Brother of the Dar-Bushi-
Fal would arrive some night and take her with
him to Barbary, perhaps in the royal gardens of
Fez she might find the Child’s Paradise.

She had finished her posing for the day as she
thought this, and was leaving the Tower of the
Seven Floors by Boabdil’s Gate, when she saw a
strange-looking man peering through the hotel

entrance into the garden. He was dressed some-
AT THE GYPSY QUARTER. 95

thing like a gypsy, but his complexion was lighter
and instead of the broad sombrero he wore a
voluminous turban. Flossy approached him fear-
lessly, but in the shadow of the entrance he caught
her arm.

“Give it to me,” he said in a hoarse whisper, “I
saw it in your hand, do not deny it.”

. Flossy handed him the coin which she had just
received and tried to wrench herself from his
grasp, but he held her wrist tightly.

“That is not what I mean,” he said. “Give me
the key. Those English have plenty of money;
there is no reason why they should not share it
with us. Iam your father Hamet au Muza, and
I will take you to the land of the Moor, but first
we will despoil these Christians.”

“No, father,” Flossy cried bravely ; “they have
been good to me and you must not rob them.”
Her remonstrance was useless. The man’s grasp
closed on the key. “I will not let go,” the child
cried; “if you kill me I will not let go. Help!
help!” The man loosened his hold on the. key
and placed his hand over her mouth. Flossy felt
g6 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

the uselessness of her resistance and burst into

tears. It was her best defense.
(Ninth Transformation.)

Key and child vanished and the astonished man

found himself holding a small porcelain teapot.
CHAPTER VI.
THE BEST OF ALL,

HE magician, for it was really he, was very
much surprised at receiving his teapot in
this remarkable manner, for he had not recognized
Flossy in the Gypsy child. He was as pleased as
he was astonished. “ Bubbling Teapot!” he cried,
“T would rather have thee again than all the treas-
ure which the Christian artist may have hidden in
that tower. We will journey into the Land of the
Moor, O precious teapot! and there you shall
vault and tumble and dance upon the tight-rope
before sheiks and pashaws and we will get gain,
and your renown shall be’ published throughout
the entire land — even from Mogadore to Timbuc-
too and the uttermost parts of the Soudan.”
The magician was as good as his word. They

crossed the Strait of Gibraltar and Flossy found
97
98 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

herself in Africa. The magician spread a small
prayer rug for himself in the Soc, or market-place
just outside the city of Tangier, and began his
performances. There were motley groups all about
him; here an encampment of pilgrims on their
way to Mecca, there a caravan of camels, dusty and
travel-worn, just arrived from the desert with ivory
and ostrich feathers. There were gayly-attired
negresses selling pomegranates and other tropical
fruits, wild Bedouin Arabs with long guns and
splendid horses. There were veiled women and
naked children, long-bearded and turbaned sheiks,
donkeys and donkey drivers. All of this hurrying,
jostling crowd were intent on their own business,
pausing only to kick or to blaspheme when inter-
rupted; but when Sidi Hamet au Muza planted
his stakes, stretched his rope and set his teapot
dancing, the circles about the story-teller and the
snake-charmer broke at once and re-formed around
the performing teapot. Even the pilgrims hurried
through their prayers, and the weary camel-drivers
rose from the ground and belabored each other

for the best positions. Flossy bobbed and sidled
THE BEST OF ALL. 99

in her usual comical manner, and a yellow-faced
Moor in a snowy turban and robes of fine material
said to the magician, “Know, O Sidi Hamet au
Muza, that I am purveyor to the Sultan’s harem.
He has sent me to this city to purchase and de-
vise amusements for his ladies. I have found
nothing but thy performing teapot and a box with
a crank out of which music can be ground (an
invention coming from the land of the Christians,
even the island of Sicily), which is at all worthy to
absorb the attention of the royal ladies. Teach
me the secret by which you make your teapot to
dance, and I will give you as much yellow gold as
it will hold.”

The magician replied that while he was perfectly
willing to make his teapot dance for the Sultan’s
harem it was impossible for him to impart the
secret to anyone. The purveyor took him aside,
and whispered, “Then there is but one way
whereby this affair can be managed. The Sultan
will not allow any man to be admitted to his harem.
You must be disguised as an old woman.”

To this the magician readily consented, and the
100 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

two set out the next day on their journey by cara-
van to the city of Morocco. Flossy had now an
ample opportunity of observing the life of real
Moorish princesses. They were dressed in span-
gled gauze and in rich silks. They reclined on
the softest of cushions, were bathed with per-
fumes and fanned by slaves. They walked in
rose-gardens watered by beautiful fountains, and
were fed upon dainties. But in spite of all this
Flossy saw that they were not happy. Their pal-
ace was as truly a prison as the gilded aviary
which held the birds of brilliant plumage in their
garden. “I hope no one will boil me,” Flossy
said to herself, “for I am sure I do not want to
be a Moorish Princess if I am to be locked up
every night, and never allowed to go outside the
harem even in the daytime.”

One day Flossy saw a girl fondling a gazelle in
the court of the harem, and weeping over it as
though her heart would break. “Thou mindest.
me of the days of my freedom,” she said, “ when
I wandered an Arab maid as unfettered as the

wind.”
THE BEST OF ALL, LOT

The girl would not even look at Flossy that
evening though she danced her best, ‘hoping to
beguile her from her melancholy. Some one said
that she was from Egypt and was homesick for
her own country. “It must be very beautiful,”
thought Flossy, “if itis more charming than this
palace,” and she tried in her dull crockery way to
remember what she had ever heard of Egypt. The
photograph which she had seen in Mr. Rose’s
studio in New York, came to her mind; a ruined
temple shaded with palms, and a lazy river sleep-
ing in the sun.

“I wish I were an Arab child,” she thought. “I
could see all those wonderful things in old Egypt
——the mummies and pyramids, the palaces and
temples.”

It was not that she cared so particularly for
these, but that she feared she might be trans-
formed to a Moorish maiden.

Happily for her the magician soon found that
his disguise was suspected, and gathering together
his effects he fled from the palace and joined a

company of pilgrims in the character of a dervish.
102 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT,

They journeyed for many weeks before he dared
take his performing apparatus from its conceal-
ment.

At last a day came when Flossy was exhibited
in a hut filled with swarthy faces. As she tilted
and courtesied she caught a glimpse through the
open door of a broad river and, lying on the sand,
the long slant shadows of a temple with colonnade
of many columns. “Iam in the photograph,” she
bubbled delightedly, ‘and I mean to stay here.”

The audience dispersed and the juggler packed
up his baggage, but while. he was counting his
gains Flossy rolled into a corner, and he went off
without her. The woman who lived in the hut
found the little teakettle after he had gone and
filling it with water placed it over the fire, while

she busied herself about her household duties. —
(Tenth Transformation.)

When she approached the fire she was surprised
to see Flossy standing beside it. “Whose child
are you?” the woman asked not unkindly.

“T am your child,” Flossy replied quietly; “that


FLOSSY TANGLESKEIN AS ZOBEIDE, THE LITTLE EGYPTIAN,

THE BEST OF ALL. 105

is I am yours until you make me cry; you must
be careful about that, you know.”

“My child!” the woman repeated, “you are
neither Fatima nor Zuleika, and yet your face
seems familiar. What is your name?”

“ Zobeide,” Flossy replied; it was the most ap-
propriate name she could think of. The woman
shook her head in a puzzled way. “She is my
child,” she said to herself; “strange I should
have forgotten her— but then there’ are so many.”
Indeed the hut was filling with children of every
size clamoring for their supper. '

“T have put the kettle on to boil, children,” the
woman replied, “ but I have nothing to cook; you
must wait for that until your father arrives. - Go,”
she said to Flossy, “and meet him. If he has
brought any food, bring it home before him.”

Flossy walked toward the river where a number
of fishermen were busy with their boats. Instinct-
ively she approached the most disagreeable one
and asked him for a fish which he held.

“Begone, child!” he exclaimed. ‘“ Wherefore

should I give you this fish ?”” ~
106 ‘THE BUBBLING TEAPOT,

“ Because mother wishes to cook it,” Flossy
replied.

“Mother sent her for it,” said a voice at her
side, and turning Flossy saw that the whole troop
of her new brothers and sisters had followed her
to the shore.

“ Shades of the pyramids!” exclaimed the man.
“When I left home this morning there were surely
but seven and now there are eight! There is a
mistake somewhere ; these can not be all my chil-
dren.” He stood them in review, muttering their
names and passed Flossy without noticing any
peculiarity as she stood between Fatima and
Zuleika. “I ama stupid fellow,” he said to him-
self; “there must have been eight, and yet I
could have sworn I had but seven children.”

As the days passed, Flossy found that the new
life was not as picturesque as it had appeared.
The scorching sands burned her bare feet in spite
of the bangled anklets. Her tunic was only of
red calico, and her necklace of blue beads. The
food was coarse and scanty, her father downright

unkind, and her mother ignorant and overworked,
THE BEST OF ALL. 107

toiling with the men at unlading the dahabeeahs.

Flossy had plenty of time to play in the great
temple against which their hut backed. Some-
times the children found coins in the sand, and
these they sold to the travellers who stopped to
visit the temple on their way up and down the
Nile, .

Flossy found nothing for a long time; but at
last in digging a little well for her playhouse she
came upon a curious amulet in the form of a scar-
abzeus, -or beetle, finely moulded in bronze and
corroded with streaks of a beautiful blue and
green,

She brought her precious find to her mother
who was delighted, and showed it to her husband,
His small eyes glittered greedily, and he cried as
he examined it, “This is from the necklace of
some princess; it will bring us many-a lucky
penny.”

“Shall you take it down the river and sell it to
the Director of the Museum at Cairo?” his wife
asked.

“TI shall do better than that,” the man replied,
108 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

“T shall not only sell it once, but twice and many
times. Ican make a mold of this in wax, from
which we can make as many like it as we choose,
which the children can sell one by one, not too
frequently, to the travellers who visit the temple.”

Though Flossy was now an Egyptian child,
there yet lingered in her mind some faint memory
of Christian training; or was it perhaps the Spirit
of Truth which enlightens every conscience no
matter how benighted, and “is not far from every
one of us”? Her cheek burned indignantly as
she thought of the proposed fraud; taking the
scarabeeus from the man’s hand she examined it
attentively.

“And do you mean to cheat people and make
them think your beetles are real antiques?” she
said.

“ Certainly, we can make much money.”

“You shall not do it,” Flossy exclaimed. “I
will throw the scarabzeus into the river,” and she
darted down the bank toward the water.

“Stop!” shouted the man, “if you throw it

into the river I will beat you to death.”
THE BEST OF ALL. 109

But Flossy did not pause until close to the water’s
edge; then she faced her pursuers. “ Promise that
you will not coin more,” she said, “and I will not
throw it.”

The man’s face was black with rage, but Flossy’s
Egyptian mother laid her hand upon his arm.
“We must not anger her,” she said. “That kind
always die if they are crossed. She is a spirit:
child, with strange notions. We shall not long
keep her, Promise.”

“T promise,” the man grumbled sullenly, “ but,”
he added to himself, “it will take more than a
spirit-child to make me keep my promise.”

That night while Flossy slept he made the mold
from the scarabeeus, and melting all the odd coins,
buttons and pieces of brass and copper to be
found in the hut, he coined ten forgeries of the
amulet. These he carefully boiled in vinegar to
corrode them, and placing them beside the original
it was difficult to tell which was the genuine.
Still they did not quite suit him; and burying
them in the ashes he kindled a fire above them.

He raked them out in the morning roughened,
Ito THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

smoked, with bits of the ashes burned in, altogether
athousand years older in appearance than the true
antique. “These will do,” he chuckled, tying them
up in a bit of rag.

“ But what are you going to do with them?” his
wife asked. ‘“ Zobeide will perceive that you have
not kept your word.”

“Trust me for that, only hold your tongue,” he
replied with a smile of low cunning. ‘Then enter-
ing the temple he buried the amulets close beside
the spot where the original scarabeus had been
found. After their scanty breakfast he bade Flossy
dig and search more carefully in the temple, and
see if she could be as lucky again. “You will
not be too pious to sell for us what you really find
there, I suppose,” he said mockingly.

“Certainly not,” Flossy replied with brave dig-
nity, and taking her wooden shovel she worked
faithfully all the morning, at last coming upon the
amulets. She was delighted with her success,
carrying them proudly home, and exhibiting them
to her mother. “A large dahabeeah has just

been moored to the bank—run down and sell
THE BEST OF ALL. TII

them to the gentlemen,” Flossy’s mother said
kindly, and Flossy nothing loth scampered down
to the Nile boat.

It was larger and handsomer than any she
had yet seen. A pompous dragoman stood by
the gangway ordering aside the donkey-boys and
fruit-sellers who pressed toward him. Flossy held
aloft her amulets and was so fortunate as to catch
the man’s eye. “ Anticos!” he muttered; “if they
are genuine my master, the Professor, would like
to see them.” And obliging the others to make
way he led Flossy on board. The cabin was
elegantly fitted up, but what impressed Flossy
most was the quantity of books piled everywhere.
An elderly gentleman was seated at a table on
which was spread a quantity of curiosities, little
images, bits of crumbled mummy-cases, armlets,
vases, and coins.

He looked up kindly and examined Flossy’s
amulets. A disappointed look crossed his face as
he pushed them back to her. “My child,” he
said, “it is of no use to try to deceive me: with

forgeries.”
II2 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT,

“But I found these myself in the temple,” Flossy
wailed.

The gentleman shook his head sorrowfully.
“Learn to speak the truth,” he replied; “that is
better than all the amulets of Egypt.”

A great sob rose to Flossy’s throat but died ina
bubbling sound. One tear fell upon the scarabzeus

in her hand, then hand and arm stiffened once
(Eleventh Transformation.)

more, and her form shrunk again into a teapot.
“Here, take your amulets, and do not try to im-
pose them upon ignorant travellers,” the gentleman
said ; then looking around and not seeing Flossy,
he added, “ How quickly that child disappeared !
and what an innocent expression she had! why, the
injured look which she gave me when I accused
her of deception quite cut metothe heart. Joseph!”
he called to the dragoman, “carry away this teapot.

I cannot imagine how it came upon my table.”
Joseph picked Flossy up and hung her on a
hook in the butler’s pantry where she bobbed and

wagged as the boat made its way up the river.
THE BEST OF ALL. 113

The Nile boat sailed quietly on for days and
days and Flossy, as a teapot, had plenty of time to
think.

“T have had a good deal of experience,” she
said to herself. “I have been a Chinese child
—and suffered more with my poor feet than ever I
did in all my life in America. I was a French
child — and my dear mother and I were subjected
to such degrading labor as never falls to the lot
of the poorest at home. I was the daughter of a
Spanish grandee — and learned how cruel and un-
grateful civilized men can be to their faithful dumb
servants. I liked the Gypsies and would never
have wept when living with them — if they had only
been honest ; but the Moorish harem life was most
unendurable of all—for there was nothing to do.
The Arab life was wild and free — but I could not
lie. On the whole there was no life so satisfactory
or enjoyable as my bread-and-butter-and-spelling-
book life at home. I wonder where we are going
now and whether I shall see my own Mamma
Tangleskein again. All of my mothers have been

kind. Mothers are alike in that the world over
Trg THE BUBBLING TEAPOT,

But on the whole I don’t believe a mother could
be invented quite so nice as an American one.”
As Flossy said this a lady walked from the saloon
of the Nile boat to the cook’s cuddy. She looked
about her at the shining neatness of Joseph’s sauce-
pans withasmile of approval. She opened a can-
ister and took out a teaspoonful of English
breakfast tea. Then she lighted a spirit lamp, and
taking Flossy from her hook set her on to boil.
As the steam arose Flossy saw that there were
tears of longing in the lady’s eyes, which had a

strangely familiar look, and as the magic bubbles
(Zwelfth Transformation.)

rose, and the imprisoning spell was lifted, she
stretched out her arms with an eager happy cry,
“Mamma, my own Mamma Tangleskein, the best

in all the world!”
a

CHAPTER VII.
THE CHILD’S PARADISE.

LOSSY TANGLESKEIN was happy; and
the old proverb, “ Be good and you will be
happy,” will bear reading backward ; for there are
few happy people who do naturally incline to be
good, ;
Flossy had passed through some strange experi-
ences which had conduced to this desirable end.
Through the agency of a powerful spell she had
lived successively the lives of a Japanese, a
Breton, a Spanish, a Gypsy, and an Arab child.
In Spain she had learned to pity animals, and she
could never afterwards see a cruel driver beat his
horse without begging the man to stop. When
she saw how her life was shielded from the pains .
of rough labor she thought of the Breton peasants,
and thanked her Heavenly Father for the refine-
115
116 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

ments of civilization. She had never been tempted
to lying or stealing; but the lessons of the Gypsy
and the Arab experiences were not thrown away
upon her. She grew to appreciate the physical
comfort which untrammelled dressing gives; and
seeing some little girls, only slightly older than
herself, cramped in corsets and tight French shoes
she did not envy them, but told her mother that
they reminded her of her life as a little Chinese
girl.

She was never idle, for she remembered the
yawning misery of harem-imprisonment, and in
play and work she naturally was as busy and merry
‘as a bee.

Still there were certain conditions of her home
life which she did not fully appreciate. She did
not enjoy winter, and though fond of the luxury
of a bath in summer was something of a shirk
when the ice had to be broken in the pitcher on
a cold morning. She had even been heard to
declare that she wished she lived in a country
where snow never fell. - But she was inconsistent ;

for when the hot summer came she remarked
THE CHILD’S PARADISE, 117

repeatedly that she wished it was winter all the
year round, She had heard older people com-
plain about our changing climate and she caught
their carping tone, and said a great many foolish
things about the weather, which indeed has always
been a fruitful subject for inane remarks.

If too the conditions of life pleased her in
America so far as mere physical comfort went,
she did not yet fully endorse the demand for
higher education for woman; and one day, find-
ing nothing at home to inspire her in preparing
the composition which would be required the next
morning, she betook herself to Mr. Rose’s studio
as a good place in which to write it.

It was in this studio that the chain of magical
experience had begun to unfold its links; and as

Flossy wrote the subject of her composition
“THE CHILD'S PARADISE,”

she wished that the scenes would dissolve into
each other as they had done once before. She
had been a teapot first, a magical Japanese tea-

pot, so constituted that whenever it was boiled it
118 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

changed to a girl, and whenever the girl cried
she stiffened into a teapot. “I would like,” she
thought to herself, “to visit a few more countries
before I decide whether America really is the
Child’s Paradise. I was a teapot in the Nile-boat
just before I was transformed back to an Ameri-
can child.. Iwonder where we were going. Some-
where up the great river. There were palm-trees
and temples on either bank, and brown men and
women and camels.”

The snow stormed against the great studio win-
dow, tapping with muffled white-mittened fingers
for admittance, and the fire on the hearth burned
drowsily. Flossy’s head began to wag backward
and forward, like the bobbing of the magic teapot
on its hook in the little kitchen of the dahabeeah
on the Nile. Bump, bump! it was a wonder her

head did not drop off into her lap; and suddenly
(Thirteenth Transformation.)

Flossy was conscious that she had no head and no
lap. She was only a saucy spout, a wicker-bound

handle, and a gayly-decorated round little body.
THE CHILD’S PARADISE, 11g

The enchantment had begun again just where it
had left off!

“Good!” thought Flossy. ‘“ Didn’t I get rid
of that composition nicely? Now we will see—
what we shall see.”

For many days, Flossy voyaged quietly on. At
length the dahabeeah stopped at an African vil-
lage in the Soudan. There was an unusual bustle
on shore and in the boat, a hasty packing and
removal of bundles and boxes, and Flossy under-
stood that a part of the party intended to make a
caravan-trip to the interior. Joseph, the drago-
man, packed her in a chest containing a varied
assortment of strange articles; boxes of beads,
knives, mirrors, fish-hooks, gay handkerchiefs, toys,
tools, sleighbells and other trinkets. Flossy heard
some one say that these articles were intended as
a medium of exchange with the natives; and she
laughed to herself as she wondered what use they
could find for the sleighbells. Meantime the
sleighbells were rather cheerful companions, for
they were the only things with tongues in: the

chest; sometimes, as they swayed and jolted along
120 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

with a slow shambling motion suggestive of the
gait of acamel or a bullock, the sleighbells tinkled
merrily and their musical laughter carried her
memory back to a far-away country where the
snows drifted thick and soft, tufting the lilacs with
swan’s-down, The memory made her give a little
sniff with her coppery nose; but Flossy was not
going to be homesick just yet. She would wait
first, and see what was going to happen.

Bump, bump, crash, bang, jingle! the chest was
on the ground; a burst of light; the lid was off
and Flossy saw a group of natives looking at her
curiously and enviously.

An African chief had brought ivory and gold-
dust and ostrich feathers to trade with the strangers,
and the articles in the chest were handed out
lavishly. The sleighbells were hung as a necklace
about the neck of his favorite wife, and Flossy
found herself in her dark hands,

“Now,” thought Flossy, “I wonder what she
will do with me. She never can have made a cup
of tea in her life.”

This was quite true; but the negroes had tasted
THE CHILD’S PARADISE. 121

coffee, and the queen hugged the teapot close to
her swarthy bosom, anticipating the luxury in which
she would indulge on the first opportunity. It was
long before it came, and during the interval Flossy
hung as an ornament among some decorated cala-
bashes in the queen’s booth.

But one day a caravan of Bedouins halted near
the village, there was traffic and barter, and the
queen came into her booth with a yard of red
cotton filled with coffee-berries. She browned
them carefully and beat them with a pestle ; then
she filled the magic teapot with water, placed it
over the fire, and calling upon her chief invited
him to a banquet, giving him to understand that a
surprise awaited him. It proved a surprise for

them both; for when they entered the booth Flossy
‘(fourteenth Transformation.)

stood before the fire in a bright leopard-skin tunic,
her woolly locks braided in a hundred little spikes,
anda silver ring dependent from her flat litile nose.
The negro queen clasped her hands in rapture,

for she had never seen so beautiful a child.
122 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

“Ah! this is the surprise!” grunted the king;
“a handsome daughter. But why have you kept
her a secret so ‘long? Well,” he added, turning
Flossy around, “she was worth keeping.”

The queen, seeing that her liege lord was really
pleased, wisely concealed her own astonishment
and proceeded to make him.some coffee in an
earthen jar; for the little teapot had unaccount-
ably disappeared. She developed an intense affec-
tion for her foster daughter, whom she. believed
had been sent her through the enchantments of
an old Jiji woman, or witch, and to whom she sent
her necklace of sleighbells as an offering of grat-
itude.

Flossy lived for some time in the wild kraal,
and found the life of an African princess not with-
out its pleasures. It must have been that her
sensibilities had been blunted in the change; for
the rancid pomatum with which her woolly hair
was smeared seemed to her a most delicious per-
fume, and roasted elephant’s foot a great dainty.
The tribe moved about from time to time, and

Flossy witnessed a lion-hunt and an expedition for


FLUSSY TANGLESKEIN AS AN AFRICAN PRINCESS.



THE CHILD’S PARADISE, 125

spearing hippopotami. There were no hard les-
sons to be learned and, degenerating as she was
into a little savage, it seemed to her that at last
she had found the Children’s Paradise.

But one day a very startling thing happened to
our happy little African Princess.

Their tribe was attacked by another and beaten.
The king and his soldiers were forced to fly, and
the women and children were taken prisoners. A
heavy yoke of wood was fastened around the neck
of Flossy’s mother, and a brutal man drove them
in long procession across the desert sands. F lossy
realized that they had fallen into the hands of
slave-dealers. But her heart was so full of bitter-
ness that she could not shed a single tear.
Besides this she was too brave to desert her poor
mother. She trudged cheerfully by her side, com-
forting her by stroking her hand from time to
time, and when they paused to rest she brought
her water, and tried to unfasten the heavy yoke
which weighed her down so cruelly. The guard
saw her doing this, and raising his murderous axe

he dealt her mother a blow upon the head which
â„¢

126 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

killed her instantly. Thén Flossy uttered a heart-
broken cry, but not in fear of the infuriated negro

who raised the axe above her head, for she felt her-
(fifteenth Transformation.)

self changing, and saw his look of rage fade into
one of alarmed surprise. She was only a teapot
once more, and as such had nothing to fear, unless,
indeed, it should occur to her horrible owner to boil
her, when according to the mysterious conditions
of her enchantment she would of course change
again to a little girl.

The barbarian did not know this; nor had he
any idea of the use of the little object which he
held in his hand. He admired its bright coloring,
and, concluding that it was intended for personal
decoration, hung it around his neck by a cord,
and wore it against his naked chest all the way to
the coast. Here some trading vessels were at
anchor and the wily merchants bartered rum, gun-
powder and trinkets for the ivory and gold-
dust which the negroes brought.- A harmonica

attracted the attention of Flossy’s owner. His
THE CHILD’S PARADISE, 127

cherished teapot would not make such music as
this, and he at once offered Flossy in trade for
the mouth-organ. The proposition was accepted,
and the ship sailed away to the northward, the
magical teapot lying forgotten in the chest of one
of the merchants. For many weeks she voyaged
steadily on her keel resolutely pointed in the same
direction.

“T wonder where we are going,” Flossy thought
to herself. “I hope far away from Africa and
from any tropical country. I hope it is to the
Arctic regions, to the very North Pole itself.
There at least I might stand a chance of having
some ice-cream, and how I have longed for it!”

One of Flossy’s chief luxuries during her Amer-
ican summers was unlimited ice-cream. As an
African child she had craved the refreshing cool-
ness without remembering exactly the delicacy
which she vaguely missed; but as a teapot it all
came back to her. “I am baked,” she said to
herself, “broiled, roasted, friedtoacrisp. Ifsome
fone would only fill me now with chopped ice, I

would be content to remain a piece of crockery
128 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT,

for an indefinite period. Really the climate in
Africa is worse than in America.”

In reality the ship was bound for Stockholm,
and as it entered the dark waters of the Baltic,
winter was beginning and the shores of Russia
and Sweden were already white with snow. At
Stockholm the ship was unladen, and Flossy found
herself the property of a Swedish pedler, who
packed his sledge with a strange medley of articles
and started one frosty morning over the glittering
snow to the northward. The bells on his horses’
harness jingled merrily, and the pedler drew his
fur robes well about him and whistled encourag-
ingly to his horses, for he was bound for the far
north and expected to double the value of his
wares in the furs for which he would exchange
them. The fiords were firnr green ice and the
snow was crisp and very hard, and the runners
creaked noisily as they cut through the diamond-
like particles, and the pedler had to rub his nose
frequently with his fur mitten for fear that it
would be frozen. Indeed there was especial

danger of this for he was of the Jewish race and
THE CHILD’S PARADISE, 129

his nose stood out like a bold promontory, flanked
by two glittering lighthouses of eyes.

At Tornea, on the Russian frontier, he turned
his course backward; for he had disposed of all
his wares with the exception of the teapot, which
he offered to the innkeeper in payment for his
supper. “TI donot care for it,” said the man; “it
is only a woman’s toy, and I am not rich enough
to pamper my wife with such trinkets.”

A stupid-looking Laplander who had been drink-
ing the host’s strong ale reeled forward.

“JT am not as rich as thou,” he said, “but I am
not too poor to pleasure my wife. I said I would
bring hera present from Tornea, and I had almost
forgotten it. See if I have enough left to pay for
your woman’s toy.”

He handed the pedler his deerskin purse which
was unscrupulously emptied, and taking the tea-
pot he stumbled out to his sledge. Stowing it
safely away he twisted the end of the thong, with
which he guided his reindeer, about his wrist, and
with a joyful snort the animal bounded forward.

The Laplander’s name was Lars Forstrom. He
130 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT,

had driven a long distance to Tornea to dispose
of some sea-otter skins and to purchase neces-
saries for his family. Fortunately these had been
purchased before entering the inn door, for Lars
had one grave weakness—a fondness for strong
drink. Though short and dark, he was not an ill-
looking man. He wore a mustache and his, cop-
pery cheeks had a ruddy healthful tinge. He was
stupid certainly, but he was good-natured and
warm-hearted. He wore the Lapland tight jerkin
of deerskin strapped about him with a crimson
worsted scarf, his sea-otter cap was decorated with
hanging squirrel-tails, his mittens were of dogskin,
and his leggins of sheepskin with the wool inward.

He sang until the beer and the cold rendered
him too drowsy, and then he fell asleep on his
sledge, and the strong deer pursued his way
straight up the Tornea river which spread, a high-
way of ice, down to the Bothnian Gulf. All night
the stout-limbed reindeer sped northward, the
moonlight shining full on the snow-laden trees
that marked the banks of the buried river. The

next morning the wary animal halted in a little


\

THE CHILD’S PARADISE. 131

village ; but Lars neither spoke nor stirred. Some
passers-by shouted in his ear and shook him, and
finally carried him inside one of the houses.

“ He is drunk,” said one. “ He is frozen,” said
another. They bustled about preparing and
applying remedies, but with little hope. “ He is
dead,” said the father of the family. ‘
CHAPTER VIIL
AMONG THE LAPPS,

O, you cannot bring him to life,” repeated the
a man in an earnest tone.

“Perhaps not,” replied the mother; “ but think
of his poor wife.”

They had brought the contents of the sleigh
within doors, and the good woman proceeded to
make some coffee in the little teapot. “It will be
good for him if he revives,” she explained; and
contrary to all expectation Lars drew a heavy
breath as she set it on the close Russian stove,
He was coming out of his stupor. Then there
was more rubbing with snow and rum, and shak-
ing and joyful exclamation, for they were welcom-
ing a man from the jaws of death and, stranger as
he was, for the moment they were as interested in

him as if he had been their own kith and kin.
132
AMONG THE LAPPS. 133

After he had spoken and been bolstered up
with a bearskin, the housewife thought of the
coffee; but the teapot was no longer where she

had set it. In its place a little girl, whom the
(Sixteenth Transformation.)

woman had not noticed before, stood by the stove.
She was dressed, like Lars Forstrom, in clothes of
reindeer skin trimmed with eider-down, and she
wore a boa of squirrel-tails strung on deer’s sinew
about her neck.

A closely-knitted scarlet hood covered her head,
her hair hung in black elf-locks about her face, and
her hands were incased in fur mittens.

“Are you his daughter?” the woman asked.
Flossy nodded and stepped nearer her new father.
He did not notice her at first, for he was not quite
conscious of his present surroundings and babbled
incoherently of a bear with which he fancied he had
been fighting. Presently his glance fell upon Flossy.
He stared at her a moment in bewilderment then
rubbed his eyes with this exclamation: “Then it

was not a dream, after all!”
134 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

“Tt is no dream that you are saved, my friend,”
said the kind housewife ; “you are in the hands of
friends.”

“Ves,” replied Lars, “but I have been in the
bear’s den, and I have brought back my Gudrun —
little Gudrun who was lost.”

“ Are you Gudrun?” the woman asked.

“T suppose so,” Flossy replied a little uncertainly ;
and it was well for her that no more questions were
put at that time, for she was quite as puzzled as
her father. He was not able to continue his drive
until the next day ; but he told her then the story
of his wild early life. When first married he had
gone with his wife to live in the mountains. He
hunted the wild animals and would follow them
with great agility, skating down the frozen slopes
on long skides, or wooden skates, six feet in length.
He carried with him a barbed pole to guide his
course, and with which he was not afraid to battle
the most savage animals. It was a solitary life;
but his wife, Drontha, and he were never lonely,
for they loved each other, and she was as hardy

and adventurous as he, and would often accompany
AMONG THE LAPPS, 135

him on his wanderings. After their little Gudrun
came to them she did this more rarely; but one
morning he induced her to do so, as he was going up
a ravine in search of a bear which had carried off a
pig from their neighbor. Baby Gudrun was left
sound asleep in her hammock-cradle of sealskin
suspended from the centre of the tent. They were
gone only a few hours, hunting unsuccessfully for
any traces of the bear; but when they returned they
found the tent door torn open, the hammock dragged
to the ground, and the baby gone. Worse than all,
on the snow outside they saw the tracks of an
enormous bear. The whole country was roused
and the region thoroughly searched, but neither
child nor bear were ever found. At last the parents
gave up all hope and believed that their child had
been devoured by wild beasts.

“ And now, how was it that I found you, or that
you found me?” Lars asked.

But Flossy could not tell. She remembered her
former transformations only vaguely, like dreams.
Perhaps they were dreams, and she had laid all

this time in some shaggy bear’s den.
136 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT,

“How glad the mother will be to see you,” Lars
continued, “there are nearly a half-dozen other
children, but she has kept your place for you.”

That day, without knowing it, they crossed the
Arctic Circle, and another day’s sledging brought
them to the Lapp village. The huts were mere
mounds of earth with canvas roofs; half cave, half
tent. The Finns, who live in the same region, build
houses ; but the Lapps have a tradition that shortly
after both races were created it began to rain,
whereupon the Finns sheltered themselves under a
board and the Lapps under a piece of canvas; and
this is the reason that to this day the Finns live in
houses, and the Lapps in tents.

Swarms of snapping black Spitz dogs greeted
their arrival, and some men and boys, who in their
clumsy deerskin suits resembled bears and cubs
walking on their hind legs, came out to meet them.
One of the men took charge of the sledge, and Lars
led Flossy through a sort of root-cellar and fur-
storeroom, into the house proper. A fire burned
in the centre of the only room, the smoke escaping

as best it could through a hole in the roof,
AMONG THE LAPPS, 137

A woman, who was cooking something in a pot,
looked up as Lars entered, and listened to his story
of the finding of the lost Gudrun. She was not
quite satisfied. Drawing Flossy to her, she cate-
chised and scrutinized her closely. “ She is like
you in face, Lars,” she said at length; “but she is
too bright by far to be your daughter. I fear me you
have brought home some forest-troll or water-nixie
which will work us mischief.”

“ Nay,” Lars replied, “she is a Christian child,
and she may well be bright, for she is your child,
Drontha, and you were ever quicker than I.”

Drontha shook her head, but her heart was
touched by her husband’s compliment. “ She may
stay, Lars,” she said, “and though she may not be
our lost daughter I am willing to accept her as such.
How drunk you must have been not to be able to
tell where you found her!”

“Yes,” Lars replied, complacently, “but if I had
not been drunk perhaps I would never have found
her at all, and surely it was a piece of good fortune.”

“Good for once,” replied the woman, “ but don’t

count this a reason for getting drunk again.”
138 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT,

Flossy was not certain whether the woman meant
that the same happy result might not again follow,
or that she did not wish any more children brought
her in such a mysterious manner. Hitherto Flossy
had loved her mothers better than her fathers. In
every transformation the mother, whether a high-
born lady or simple peasant, was gentle and loving
—the one invariably dear and. delightful element in
every existence. Here, however, Lars was certainly
the more amiable member of the family. Hesmiled
almost constantly, showing a mouth full of broad
white teeth, and he had a trick, when pleased, of
tossing his head like a horse and throwing back his
mane of black straight hair. He did so now; and
Flossy noticed an irregular dark spot on his forehead
which was usually hidden by the bang which all
Laplanders wear.

She was about to tell him of it when her mother
proceeded to dish up the contents of the pot, which
proved to be stewed pigs’ feet, for her husband and
the newly-arrived daughter. An older girl brought
a pitcher of sour reindeer’s milk; and Flossy was so

hungry that this refreshment seemed delicious.

Set tee R nga ad eT a a ne bn tp a Sd eS
AMONG THE LAPPS. I4!I

After supper she felt so sticky and uncomfortable
that she asked her mother for water in which to
bathe. “We never wash ourselves in winter,” the
woman replied; “it is so extremely cold that it
would be dangerous to do so.”

Now Flossy was very fond of splashing about in
the big bath-tub at home, and to go without the
luxury of bathing for an entire winter seemed to
her a great deprivation, “I can at least wash my
face and hands, can I not?” she asked.

“No, indeed,” replied her mother; “rub them
with this greasy rag instead. Your father and I
never wash our faces from one year’s end to the
other.”

Flossy looked at them both. She could readily
believe this, for, though rather handsome and sturdy
people, her parents were decidedly dirty. Perhaps
this was the reason that in the long stay which she
made with them, she never saw them kiss each
other or their children. The Laplanders are not
destitute of affection and yet, strange to say, kiss-
ing is unknown to them. .. Flossy missed this caress

at first; but it was with a feeling of thankfulness
142 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

that such repulsively dirty people did not expect
her to kiss them. Little by little she became ac-
customed to their habits. The intense cold, often
forty and fifty degrees below zero, helped excuse
their slovenly habits, and purified their home from
offensive smells which would otherwise have arisen.
The white snow covered everything out of doors
with its purifying mantle and supplied the craving
for cleanliness which could not be gratified within
the hut. In spite of the cold she was out of doors
much of the time, accompanying her father in the
care of his herd of reindeer, milking the does, and
even learning how to drive stout North Wind, the
animal that brought her to her new home; the shaggy
black dogs with their sharp foxy noses and ears
were great pets, and amused her with their playful
pranks. Herbrothers and sisters, Olga, Knud, Olaf
and Hjalmar, always seemed like so many young ani-
mals to her; but they were good-natured little cubs
and their mouths stretching from ear to ear, gave
them the appearance of perpetually smiling. They
were very noisy whether in sport or sorrow; their

grief was clamgrous and their play obstreperous.
AMONG THE LAPPS, 143

But Flossy very soon learned to be as rude as they.
Long after, she read some lines which reminded
her of her experience among the Lapps, and might,

indeed, have been written of her own family:

In Lapland the people are dirty,
Flat-headed and broad-mouthed and small,
' They squat round the fire while roasting

Their fishes, and chatter and squall.

But there were also delightful things which she
remembered all her life with pleasure, and which
helped to reconcile her to the squalor of her pres-
ent surroundings. One of these experiences was
the six hours of twilight and combined sunrise
and sunset in the middle of the day. She was living
now so far within the Arctic zone that the sun at
noonday was only one degree above the horizon.
The noonday-hour was preceded by a long slow
sunrise; the sky and long stretches of snow illum-
ined with the most beautiful colors melting into
each other with exquisite gradations. In America
she was rarely up early enough to see the sunrise.
But here the stars only began to fade, and the deep
violet of the sky to flush to lilac at about ten o’clock
144 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

in the morning. As the hours went on, the lilac
changed to pink, the pink warmed to rose, and the
rose burned to orange, as the orb of the sun
appeared above the horizon. Then the tints retro-
graded in the same way, until darkest night settled
upon them at three in the afternoon. Further
north she knew it was midnight all winter; the
sun never showing its face and the train-oil lamp
burning smokily all day long. But here the sky
during the noonday hours was a sea of glory.

She had her cherished possessions too, like every
other child. One of these was a scarlet jacket,
wadded with eider-down which her father had him-
self brought from the ducks’ nests, and trimmed
with a band of real ermine. There was a whale’s
tooth, too, on which an old sailor had carved some
queer characters. Drontha believed that it had
some magical virtue and looked at her child with
alarm when she saw what a favorite plaything it
was with her. “Who knows,” she said to her hus-
band, “ but she may blow us up a storm with it when
we are all soundly sleeping at night ?”

The Lapps, as a tribe, have been converted to
AMONG THE LAPPS, 145

Christianity ; and there exist among them but few
relics of their ancient superstitions; but Drontha
still believed in the power of wizards to sell winds.
The old sailor, who gave her the whale’s tooth, had
told her of one who had sold his captain a knotted
cord, and whenever he wished the wind to blow
from a certain quarter he had only to untie one of
the knots.

But what troubled Drontha most in regard to
Flossy, or little Gudrun, as she was now called, was
her strange desire to be clean. None of her other
children were afflicted with this mania. It must
be, she thought, that the child missed being licked
by the bear.

But there was a still greater trial in store for her.
The long winter of nine months was over, and the
family was about to make its annual migration to
the seashore for the fisheries. Here Gudrun was
happier than ever, building sand-forts with her
brothers and sisters and wading out into the surf.
None of the other children were so venturesome,
or enjoyed the water as she did.

“I wonder whether the bear taught her to swim,”
146 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

Drontha worried, as she watched Gudrun leaping
and splashing among the waves; and she strictly
forbade Olga, Knud and Olaf to followher. “There
are water-nixies out there,” she said, “where the
white foam breaks at the foot of the lighthouse ;
and if they catch you by the legs they will pull you
under and never let you return.”

“T believe that Gudrun is a water-nixie herself,”
said Olga. “She likes to tempt us out into the surf
and then splash the salt water in our faces,”

The mother did not reply. But what was only a
half joke with the child was becoming with her a
settled conviction. This was no flesh-and-blood
child of hers, but an elfin sprite who would dis-
appear sometime as the troll did that danced with
the peasant girl until daylight and then vanished
like an exploding rocket.

One day a party of American tourists came to
visit the encampment of Lapps. The huts were
even dirtier and more repulsive than in winter, for
now the hot sun brought out all the sickening sewer-
like smells, and the cleansing snow no longer coy-

ered the filth which surrounded their homes. Gud-
AMONG THE LAPPS, 147

run offered one of the ladies a cup of sour milk,
but she drew back with an expression of disgust;
and then, because they thought there was no one
present who could understand their language, they
commented freely on the slovenly lives of the Lapps.
The gentleman of the party, who, it seemed, was a
physician, remarked: “This is the greatest fault
which the Lapps have. It is even worse than their
drinking habits, for it effects every one alike, and is
a prolific cause of disease. Leprosy in its most
loathsome forms exists among them and is due to
their filthy manner of living.”

The doctor little thought that the large-eyed
Lapp maiden who looked at him so earnestly un-
derstood all he said. After he had gone, as Gud-
run helped her father mend his nets, she said to
him, “ Father Lars, what is leprosy?”

Lars shouted. “Who has been talking to you of
leprosy?” he asked.

“The foreigners who were here said that it came
to people who were dirty.”

Lars fired up with indignation. “It comes to the

clean and the unclean alike,” he said. ‘“ My father
148 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT,

was attacked with it when he was well along in
years, and no one was more particular than he.
He bathed twice a year — once when we came down
to the seacoast in the spring, and again before we
went back for the winter.”

“Did he die?” Gudrun asked.

“Tt wasa living death,” Lars replied. “ All lepers

»

are obliged to go away from their families and stay
at the Leper Asylum with other unfortunates. Do
not question me about it.”

Gudrun said no more. But from that day she
made every effort in her power to cleanse her poor
home.

She bathed the children and washed their cloth-
ing, swept and sanded the floor, and persuaded her
father to clear away the garbage from the door-
yard. Every day, too, she frolicked in the waves,
and the children looked on longingly but dared not
follow her example, because their mother had for-
bidden them, until one day Drontha herself was
persuaded to wade into the waves and try the pleas-
ures of a bath in the salt-water. She enjoyed it so

much that all her suspicions vanished, and the next
AMONG THE LAPPS, 149

day the entire family floundered in the water like
young seals.

They were veryhappy that summer. Lars was so.
busy with his fishing, so contented when at home,
that he forgot to drink. Drontha began to take a
housewifely pride in her home and in the appear-
ance of her children. She showed more affection
for Gudrun than ever before, and told her stories
of Karen in the wooden petticoat, who, it seemed
to Gudrun must have looked very like a churn; of
King Olaf and his famous ship, the Zong Serpent,
and many another legend and saga of the North.
The children picked the wild berries and helped
Drontha make cheese of the does’ milk. They salted
the fish for winter, and sometimes went out with
their father in the fishing-boat. The life was so
simple, so wild and free, that it seemed to Gudrun
that at last she had found the Child’s Paradise.

But the short summer was drawing to a close.
Already the water was cold and the waves rough.
“Tt is a pity,” said Lars, “but we must soon think
of driving the herds inland, and there will be no

more bathing. The Finns manage it in some way ;
150 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

they have furnaces and steam themselves after the

Russian fashion. I think I must build a furnace

near our hut. I cannot bear to think of living in
“the old, dirty fashion.”

They lingered by the seashore a little longer,
collecting their effects for moving, although it was
now too late in the season to bathe. Lars was
obliged to make several trips inland before every-
thing was moved. He carried his fish first, drove
the reindeer next, and left his family for the last.
He had just returned from his second journey when
Gudrun noticed that the dark spot, which she had
seen on his forehead when she first came to live in
the family, had greatly increased and was settling
down like a thunder cloud over his eyeS and
temples. She brought a pan of water and strove
to wash it away, but it would not come off. Lars
looked at himself in a small mirror and turned pale.
“T must go out and bathe in the surf,” he said
hastily.

“Do not,” Drontha replied, “it is far too cold.”

But Lars would not listen to her. He hurried

down to the beach and, tearing off his clothing,
AMONG THE LAPPS, igi

sprang into the deadly cold water. For a little
while they watched him swimming about; then
suddenly he sank.

“Tt is the cramp!” Drontha exclaimed. “Run
for the boat.”

Gudrun and Knud launched it at once, and
Drontha herself seized an-oar and sculled rapidly
across to the spot where Lars had disappeared. As
they approached’ they thought they saw him come
to the surface and sink again. But they could not
find him, though they searched long and faithfully.
They reluctantly rowed back without him. Then
Drontha broke out into loud reproaches, calling
Gudrun a water-nixie, and accusing her of tempt-
ing her father to his death.

This was more than Gudrun could bear and she
fell to weeping bitterly. When they reached the

shore Gudrun was not in the boat.
(Seventeenth Transformation.)

“She must have drowned herself for grief,” said
Olaf, “for she was with us a moment ago.”

The children were crying wildly, but Drontha
152 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

uttered no word, " “The water-nixie has done her
work,” she thought, “it is time she disappeared,”
The next day the fishermen brought from the
beach the body of Lars, and the children heard
them saying to one another, as they looked at the
face from which the wet hair fell straight and
heavy, “It was perhaps for the best that he died
so. Neither he nor she could have borne that other
separation which must otherwise have come.”
And Drontha herself as she came to kiss her hus-
band for the first time, shrank away as she saw that
he wasaleper. The bathing and tardy attempt at
cleanliness had come too late for him, though not
for the children who remembered their water-nixie
sister long after she had left them, and could never
be content with the old filthy life after her short

visit.
CHAPTER IX.
GOING TO THE MISSION,

EANTIME the teapot lay unnoticed in the

boat, and the boat drifted out to sea. A

stiff breeze was blowing from the north, and the
boat floated out and onward day after day, the only
object between the heaving billows and the threat-
ening heavens. Sometimes a wave broke over it
and filled the teapot with briny drops which seemed
to Flossy to be the tears which she had shed; but
the boat was staunch and did not sink. Sometimes
a tired petrel rested upon it, and the barnacles
coated its keel with a heavy mail of shells. It had
reached warmer waters and was rocking quietly on
the Gulf Stream when the captain of a vessel
bound for South America caught sight of it with
his field-glass. Instantly the ship’s boat was low-
ered from the davits and stout sailors were pulling

153
154 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

away over the long swells toward the unknown
object. They worked with a will, for they imagined
that it was a bit of wreck to which some human
being might still be clinging. When they brought
the boat alongside the ship and held up the pretty
Japanese teapot they were greeted with shouts of
derision. But the captain hung the teapot in his
cabin, intending to take it home to his own little
girl.

At Para, however, the large city at the mouth of
the Amazon, some Indians came on board with
objects to sell. The captain thought that a cunning
little monkey which one of them held would please
his daughter more than the teapot, and the Indian,
in his turn, was greatly attracted by the gay piece
of porcelain. The transfer effected, Flossy was
stowed away in the Indian’s canoe and carried up
the Amazon.

It was a wild, strange country through which she
journeyed on a network of interlacing rivers, which
are generally set down in our geographies as one
stream — the Amazon. In some places they united

in one broad flood several miles wide, in others
GOING TO THE MISSION. 155

they lost themselves in an intricate maze of lagoons,
lakes and channels. Palms grew on the shores —
and such palms! Even in Egypt Flossy had never
seen anything to equal them; for here were at
least a hundred different varieties in the space of
a few miles, festooned together with vines and
matted with a dense undergrowth of broad-leaved
tropical plants. Here and there on the surface of
the water floated bits of pumice-stone from vol-
canoes far up in the Andes. They could hear the
howling monkeys crying in the forest, and now and
then an alligator lifted its head and fell with a
heavy thud into the water.

At last the boat was moored before a little clear-
ing in the woods, the home of the Indian who was
what is called a seringuerio, or rubber collector.
His house, built near the river, was elevated on
trée-trunks as a safeguard against the freshets. It
had no windows and only one door which was
closed at night to keep out the mosquitoes. A
handsome embroidered hammock was stretched
from the hut to a palm-tree, and in it reclined a

young Indian woman, the wife of the seringuerio,
156 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT,

She sprang up as her husband dragged his canoe
upon the bank and eagerly examined the articles
he had brought from the city. Several brown
children, very scantily clothed, but scrupulously
clean, also gathered about the canoe to inspect
the presents. The teapot was universally admired,
and each wished to have it as his or her particular
property.

“ Be still, Candida,” exclaimed the father. “ Pedro,
stop pounding your sisters. Ignacia, cease your
chattering. The thing is your mother’s, and you
shall not one of you lay a finger upon it.”

The mother, to appease the children, promised
to make some chocolate in it which they-should all
drink. Pedro accordingly climbed to a platform
in front of the hut where some fruit of the cacao-
tree was drying. He broke open the pods and
brought down a handful of the seeds. These Can-
dida ground in a wooden mortar and stirred to a
paste with water and sugar. The mother had al-
ready placed the teapot to boil over the camp fire.
She took the cacao paste from her daughter’s hand

and was about to stir it into the hot water, when
GOING TO THE MISSION. 157

she saw with surprise that water and teapot had
disappeared.
“Which of you children—” she began, but

(Eighteenth Transformation.)

paused, for a strange little girl was standing beside
baby Ignacia. This new arrival entirely took her
mind from the lost teapot, for they lived apart from
any village, or settlement, shut in by the impene-
trable forest and by the broad river, and she won-
dered how the child could have reached them.

“Where did you come from? What is your
name?” she asked in a breath,

“T am afraid you will not believe me,” Flossy
replied, “but I came from the teapot. I was be-
witched and your boiling the teapot set me free.”

The children clapped their hands.

“That is a pretty story,” Pedro said. “It is like
the Jurupary who alone can live in the fire and who
changed himself into a jaguar and then into a tor-
toise. Are you a Ju.uvary? Can youmake your
self into a jaguar?”

“Pray do not,” Candida cried in alarm; “be a
158 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

parrot instead, a beautiful blue parrot with a crim-
son tail.”

“JT can not turn myself into different animals
and things at will; you have boiled me and I am
a child, and I shall have to remain a child until” —

“Until we boil you again?” asked Pedro. “ Come,
Candida, help me to place the great kettle over the
fire and we will boil her.”

- “No,” said Candida, cautiously, “not unless she
promises not to turn into a jaguar—or a big
snake.”

“Tt will be of no use to boil me,” Flossy assured
them. “I shall remain a child until you make
me cry, and then” —
© This isall nonsense,” said the. mother, who had
been quietly listening. “ Don’t you know that it is
wrong tolie? José, where did you find the child?”

“J did not bring her with me,” the father de-
clared. “Some people have probably been camp-
ing near here and she has strayed away. They
will come in search of her by and by, and mean-
time she can stay with our children; there is

farinha enough for all”


FLOSSY TANGLESKEIN AS THE BRAZILIAN INDIAN GIRL.

GOING TO THE MISSION. 61

Farinha is a kind of flour, or meal, made from
the manioc root. From it a mush is made which
is the staple food of the Brazilian Indians. Flossy
found it not unpalatable at first, but grew very
tired of it before long. It seemed very strange to
her that in this tropical country, where the most
luscious fruits grow with but slight culture, the na-
tives should hardly ever taste them. Only occa-
sionally were bananas brought home by Father
José. Oranges and pineapples were cultivated by
the Portuguese settlers on their fazendas, or farms,
but the Indians knew nothing of them. There were
a few wild fruits in the woods, and these as they
happened in his way as he made his rounds to his
rubber-trees, José brought back to his family.

Sometimes José went fishing and their ordinary
fare was varied. Flossy accompanied him on a
torchlight excursion one night for fish. She sat
with the mother and the children im the body of
the canoe, while José stood in the prow shaking
a torch in his left hand and held a spear with his
right, ready to strike as the fish appeared at the

surface of the water. It was exciting sport and he
162 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

secured many large fish which his wife afterward
salted and dried. The flashing torch, a fountain
of glowing sparks reflected in the black mirror of
the water, fascinated Flossy almost as much as it
did the fishes. It seemed to her a species of fire-
works like the corruscating St. Catherine’s wheels
which she had seen at home on Fourth of July
nights. The South American Indians are particu-
larly fond of fireworks and her foster-parents prom-
ised that she should see some beautiful ones on the
festival day of St. Antonio when they would go to
the Mission to hear mass and see the spectacles.

Flossy grew to like this wild wood life. It had
one great blessing; that of cleanliness. There
was a spring, a little way from the house, surrounded
on all sides by the forest, which served the family
as a bathroom. Here the children frolicked twice
a day in the pure fresh water, pouring it upon one
another from calabashes (bowls made from the
gourd-like fruit of a tropical tree), and gaining from
their frequent baths strength to meet the debilitat-
ing influences of the climate. It was very different

from her Lapland life and Flossy remembered the
GOING TO THE MISSION. 163.

long winter spent in the dirty kennel with a shudder
of disgust. She grew'as strong and brown as her
little Indian brother and sisters. The simple life
and fare was good for her body, and she stretched
her arms like a growing vine, and raced like a
young deer, But, unconsciously, as her body grew
her mind starved. There were no story-books or
children’s magazines here, and Flossy longed with
a great hungerfor astory. One dayas her mother
was weaving a hammock she told her children a
folk-lore story, which had been told her by her own
grandmother. The other children were already

familiar with it, and called loudly for the story of
HOW THE FOX AND THE JAGUAR RAN A RACE,

“ A fox once boasted,” said the mother, “that he
could run faster thana jaguar. The latteraccepted
the challenge, and it was decided that the race
should be in a large circle, and whoever should
first reach the spot from which they started, pass-

| ing on the way by a certain palm-tree, a thicket of
bushes and a high bowlder, should be pronounced

the winner. On the morning set for the race the
164 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT,

fox stationed one of his three brothers behind each
of these objects. The two combatants then set
out; the jaguar with his long strides easily distanc-
ing the fox who, when his opponent was out of
sight, quietly returned to the goal, sat down, and
waited. The jaguar kept on running. When he
reached the palm-tree he cried out, ‘Where are
you now, Friend Fox!’ ‘T reached this point some
time ago,’ replied the elder brother of the fox; ‘and
I climbed into this palm-tree to rest and wait for
you.’ The jaguar was surprised, and, without
waiting for the fox to come down, ran away with all
his’ might. What was his astonishment as he
neared the bushes to see a fox walking leisurely
along in advance of him! but, putting forth all his
strength, he passed by the second brother, and
came panting up to the rock just in time to see the
third brother refreshing himself at a meal which he
had spread upon the top. ‘Will you not join me,
Friend Jaguar? You look tired!’ said the fox
with mock politeness; but the jaguar, goaded to
madness, rushed by like a whirlwind and dashed

around to the goal in the quickest time ever known
GOING TO THE MISSION, 165

to be made by any animal, But, as he sank ex
hausted upon the ground, he stumbled over the
true fox, who started up, rubbing his eyes, exclaim-
ing ,‘ Bless me, Friend Jaguar, I have been waiting
for you so long that I fell sound asleep!’ And as
the fox called Jurupary to witness that what he had
just said was quite true, and as no animal can in-
voke Jurupary and the same time tell a lie, it was
decided that he had won the race.”

“That is a good story,” all the children said, as
she finished.

“Was not the fox smart!” Pedro exclaimed.
“JT mean to be just like him.”

“J think the fox was a great rascal,” Flossy
said, “Did he never get paid for his deceit?”

*O; yes !” the mother replied. “ Jurupary al-
ways catches the liars.”

“Who is Jurupary?” Flossy asked.

“He is he whom the priest calls the Evil Spirit,
We must take you to the Mission to hear about
him, for you seem very ignorant. Jurupary can
change himself into any animal, though his favorite

form is that of a serpent.”
166 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT,
“ Tell her,” said Candida,
HOW THE FOX FOUND HIMSELF OUTWITTED.

Felt happened in this way,” said the mother.
“The fox went on playing his tricks on all the ani-
mals, but especially on the jaguar. At last he be-
came so presumptuous as to challenge the jaguar
to change himself into other animals and objects,
a thing which Jurupary will permit to no one but
himself.” x

“And that is why,” interrupted Candida, “we
know you could not have changed from the teapot,
or have been boiled; for neither can any but Juru-
pary endure the fire.”

Flossy was silent, and the Indian woman con-
tinued : <

“*T can change myself as well as you can,’ said
the jaguar. ‘Only let me see you do it first.
‘Very well,’ said the fox, ‘what shall I become?’
They were standing on the borders of a lake in the
centre of which grew a beautiful Victoria Regia.
The jaguar looked around, and said carelessly,

* Change yourself into that water-lily.’ < Very well,
GOING TO THE MISSION. 167

Friend Jaguar, but when will you believe that it is
I?’ ‘When I hear the flower speak and call me
by name.’ ‘Nothing is easier,’ replied the fox.
‘I have only to dive to the bottom of the lake and
remain there until my tail takes root in the ground,
when I will grow into the king lily of the lake.’
‘ Boasting is easy,’ said the jaguar scornfully. The
fox immediately dived into the lake, and, swimming
under the lily-pads, he allowed his nose to protrude
from the water just where it was hidden by the
petals of the principal lily. From this concealment
he addressed the jaguar: ‘ My friend, I have done
as you desired. Am I not the most beautiful lily
in the lake?’ While he was speaking, an Indian
approached the lily from behind the fox, with a
boat-hook, and, thrusting it into the water, dragged,
the flower into his canoe. In so doing it chanced
that he cut off a piece of the fox’s tail. The fox
swam at once to the shore and showed the jaguar
his wounded member as a proof that when the
Indian picked the lily it was the fox in disguise.
The jaguar stared stupidly at him, believing all
that he was told. ‘ And now, Friend Jaguar,’ said
168 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT,

the fox, ‘it is your turn. Do you dive to‘the bot-
tom of the lake and change yourself toa lily. But
as it is extremely difficult to resist the impulse to
rise to the surface, I will tie this great stone to
your tail, which will enable you to remain patiently
at the bottom while you are taking root.’ The
jaguar permitted the fox to do so, and at once sank
below the surface where he would inevitably have
perished had not Jurupary appeared in the person
of an alligator and gnawed him free. The jaguar
at once came to the surface and threw himself upon
the bank snorting and strangling with the water.
‘I see, Friend Fox,’ said he, after he had a little
recovered, ‘that only a drowned jaguar can be
changed to a water-lily, and I prefer to award you
the victory rather than try that experiment.’

“But when the jaguar had gone away, Jurupary,
who was angry with the fox for having usurped his
prerogative of transforming himself or pretending
to do so, appeared before the fox in the form of the
jaguar. ‘What, have you come back ?’ asked the
fox. ‘Yes,’ replied the false jaguar; ‘I have

thought of one more trial of strength which I would
GOING TO THE MISSION, 169

like to perform.’ ‘What is that?’ asked the fox.
‘There is a burning oven yonder in which a potter
intends to bake some water jars. Let us each run
through it?’ ‘Very good,’ replied the fox laughing ;
‘but since I performed the other experiment first,
you must take the lead in this.’ ‘Gladly, if you

will pledge me to follow;’

and the jaguar leaped
into the furnace, leaving the fox still convulsed
with laughter, for he thought, ‘he will now certainly
be burned to death.’ But the jaguar came out un-
harmed, and the fox trembled as he looked at him
with fiery eyes, exclaiming, ‘It is now your turn.
Go into the furnace.’ The fox, too cowardly to
redeem his pledge, turned to run away; but Juru-
pary fell upon him in the shape of an enormous
serpent and devoured him.”

“Do you still desire to be as smart as the fox?”
Flossy asked of Pedro.

The boy shook his head sheepishly. “T forgot
that story,” he replied. “But in real life it does
not always end so.”

Flossy was eager for more stories, but her

mother’s stock was soon exhausted. ‘ Padré Cris-
170 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

toval will tell you some of another kind,” she said,
“when we go up to the féte of St. Antonio.”

The entire family had looked forward with much
joyful anticipation to this festival, but when the
day came the mother lay ill of a low fever, “I
will take the children, nevertheless,” said the
father; “they shall not lose their enjoyment, and
I will bring back with me some Jesuit powder,*
which may cure the mother.”

It was a long distance to the Mission. They
reached it by paddling all night from one tortuous
channel to another. Flossy had little idea of what
she was going to see or hear, but she had lately
felt a vague longing after a higher life than the
purely animal one which she was now living. | Her
mind ached with its own emptiness; and her soul
was groping in thedark. Her mother’s stories had
interested her in the animals about her. She re-
garded them as intelligent beings, and would nod
"her head to the mischievous monkeys peering at
her through the branches of the trees, and kiss her
hand to the parrots. She knew that there was a

* Quinine. So called from its use by the early Jesuits,
GOING TO THE MISSION, 171

family of serpents under the roof of their own home,
but they were not of a poisonous kind and José
had left them there because they destroyed the
bats who were so numerous as to be a nuisance,
and Flossy would hear the snakes crawling about
above the rude ceiling at night without a thought
of fear. There was only one being whom she
dreaded — this Jurupary, or Spirit of Evil. Per-
haps he would be angry with her for changing from
a teapot to a little girl, and yet she did not think
that she ought to be blamed for this, since she
never did it of her own will.

She found that the Mission was a village built
around a plaza with a cross in the centre. A
church stood on one side of the plaza, and into it
the Indians were pressing. Here the ceremonies
interested and confused her, but she came away
with one clear idea—there was a being more
powerful than Jurupary, whom the priest knew and
to whom he talked. That being could heal the
sick, she understood; and Flossy determined that
she would ask the Padré to send him to -her

mother. After the services in the church, they ate
172 THE BUBBLING TEAPO1,

their dinner and then joined the procession which
proceeded to the burying-ground where a great
many rockets were fired off. Flossy saw that a
letter was tied to each and was told that this was
the way to send a message to the powerful friend
of the Padré. This would seem a very strange
mode of praying to us, but the South Americans
send up their prayers in this way with perfect con-
fidence that they reach the good Jesus, and will
be answered by him. The children were so de-
lighted with the rockets that José purchased one
for each of them. Padré Cristoval was near and
watched them send off the rockets with a kindly
sympathy in their pleasure. He noticed that Flossy
held hers tightly and was not willing that her
father should light it.

“Why is this ? ” he asked in so pleasant a tone
that Flossy was not afraid of him; “ are you not
fond of fireworks?” :

Flossy explained: “ Mine has no letter. I want
to send a letter to the friend you were talking of.”

“Child of Heaven,” the priest replied, “ you

shall have your choice of every prayer in my bre-
GOING TO THE MISSION, 173

viary. Will you have this —‘A Prayer for Souls
in Purgatory’, or ‘A Prayer for the absolution of
Sins’, or ‘A Prayer for a good Death’?”

“No,” Flossy replied. “I don’t want any one
to die. It is just the other way. I want my
mother not to die.” And she explained how her
mother could not come to the festival but lay at
ome sick with the fever. | ne

“T understand,” the Padré said gently, and he
asked José a number of questions and gave him a
package of Jesuit powder. Then, as though sud-
denly recollecting Flossy’s request he went into the
sacristy and wrote a special prayer for her, sprink-
ling it with holy water. This he brought to her, -
and fastened to the rocket with one of her own
golden hairs. “There,” he said, smiling, “ Juru-
pary can never intercept a message sent by an in-
nocent soul. Take this and send it off after your
mother has taken one of the powders, and the
answer will come before they are all.used.”

Flossy returned from the festival very tired,
but very happy, for had not the priest promised

that her mother should recover? If the Padré
174 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

could have seen the miasmatic, malarious surround:
ings in which their hut was built he might have
doubted the efficacy of both quinine and prayer ; for
nothing but removal from their present home could
guard against the ravages; and as for moving, there
was nothing further from José’s mind. Here was
a house and he could not bring his lazy soul to
think of building, no matter if his entire family
died. :

As Flossy splashed about in the delicious spring
the next morning, she was so joyful that her sisters
could not forbear a few spiteful remarks. “You
need not give yourself such important airs,” said
Candida, “just because you happened to think of
saving your rocket. I do not believe it will do
mother any good.”

“Nor I,” added Ignacia. “I think it will be
more likely to bring an answer from Jurupary than
from ‘the good Jesus, for when the wicked pray, it
is Jurupary who answers.”

After this envious talk they discussed the fes-
tival which they had just attended, and Candida

longed for the gaudy dresses which she had seen
GOING TO THE MISSION. 175

there. Hitherto Flossy had thought that the
white waist and blue cotton petticoat which she
now wore an all sufficient toilet, and with the ad-
dition of a flower behind her left ear really elegant ;
but her eyes were also opened and her feminine
vanity, and love of pretty things was stirred.
“When mother gets well we will ask her for new
dresses,” she bata

“Mother can never afford to get them for us,”
Candida replied, “as long as she keeps adopting
strange children. Father said he could have
bought me a string of beads if it had not been for
your rocket yesterday.”

Flossy’s kind heart was troubled, but she an-
swered meekly, and as the reference to the rocket
reminded her that her own had not yet been fired
off, she hurried to the house to do the little work
that was required, administer her mother’s medicine
and try the newcharm. Her father had started on
his round collecting the rubber sap, but Flossy had
watched the operation so closely that she did not
need his help. Taking a brand from the camp fire

she touched off the rocket, which shot straight up
176 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

—up as far as her dizzy eyes could followit. “It
will surely reach the good Jesus,” she thought ;
“but what was that flaming bolt descending al-
most as swiftly as the rocket had mounted?”

It was the rocket, one end of which was burning.
Itfell upon the roof of the hut, and the light palm
thatch burst almost instantly into flames. This
surely was not the answer which she had expected
from the Padré’s kind friend; but she did not stop
to speculate. She thought only that her mother
was in the burning house, and, climbing the
rude staircase, she dragged her out upon the bal-
cony and how— she never quite knew — helped
her safely to the ground. The other children stood
regarding the fire with staring uncomprehending
eyes. Suddenly Candida shrieked and pointed, and
Pedro cried, “Jurupary is coming out of the flames !”

It was the old boa who lived under the roof who
now coiled out of the fire; but not one of the
little group doubted that this was indeed Jurupary
come to claim his own.

“Tt is the new child whom he wants,” said Can-

dida, pushing Flossy in the direction of the serpent,
GOING TO THE MISSION, 177

and the mother, taking Ignacia by one hand and
Pedro by the other, fled wildly toward the forest.
Candida turned and ran also. Flossy tried to fol-
low, but the mother turned, and crying, “ Stay ! you
have done us enough evil,” sank exhausted upon
the ground.

Flossy stood still. It seemed to her that her
heart would burst. The frail house had burned to
the ground, and the serpent had disappeared —
even Jurupary did not want her, and she was utterly
alone. Without knowing it, she had brought to
these people the blessing which she desired; for
now that their house was burned they would be
compelled to move and would choose a more
wholesome locality. But it seemed to her that
she had been their ruin; and, desolate and heart-
broken, she sat down and sobbed, not caring the

least bit what might become of her.
CHAPTER X.
“ CASKET OF PEARLS.”

(Nineteenth Ti ransformation.)

\ X TELL, here I am a teapot again,” thought
Flossy. “At any rate it is nicer than be-

ing a South American girl with no pretty things.
I hope if ever I am a child again it will be where
they live in decent houses and wear nice dresses
and don’t send their prayers up on rockets — and
oh! I do hope, whatever else there may be, that
there will be no mosquitoes.”

But at first it did not seem likely that Flossy
was to be a girl anywhere. A teapot she was and,
for the present, a teapot she was to remain.

The family returned to the site of their home,
collected the few articles which had escaped burn-

ing by not being in the house, and packing them
178
“CASKET OF PEARLS,” 179

in the canoe departed by way of the river, F lossy
lay undetected in a group of ferns, until one day
the sharp eyes of a monkey spied the bright-colored
bit of porcelain among the leaves. He seized it and
clambered with it nimbly to the top of a palm-tree.

A pedler happened to be floating down the
river in a canoe with some Indians at this moment,
and, wondering what the gay object could be, he
aimed a shot at the monkey. The unfortunate
little creature fell into the water still tightly grasp-
ing its fate-bringing treasure. The Indians pad-
dled swiftly to the spot and secured both the body
of the monkey and the teapot. “That was a
narrow escape,” thought F lossy ; “ it really seemed
as if Iwould be drowned. I wonder if I cou/d have
been drowned as a teapot! Perhaps not. But at
any rate it would not be pleasant to stay down in
the bed of the river with the fishes, and to get my
nose full of sand. I wonder where I am going,
and to whom I belong now.”

Flossy stared hard at the pedler and fancied
that there was something familiar in his appear-

ance although he sat with his back toward her,
180 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT,

Surely she had seen those stooping shoulders
before. But when he turned and looked at her
with a glare of triumph, she fairly trembled with
dismay. It was her old master, the magician,

He smiled a cruel, malicious smile, and muttered
between his teeth, “Ah! you begin to shake
already, Bubbling Teapot. Time enough for that
when I place you on the tight-rope. You have
had a long rest, but now you shall dance, Bubbling
Teapot. Oh! how you shall dance!”

You may be sure. that Flossy did not like the
prospect of her old slavery; but there was no
escape from it at present. So for several months
after this she performed for the mountebank be-
fore crowds of gaping, admiring people, who col-
lected in the towns along the river to see the
dancing teapot spin on the end of a stick, climb a
pole, or tilt upon a tight-rope.

At Para the magician embarked upon a ship
bound for the Mediterranean. “ Now,”.said Flossy
to herself, “TI shall have another chance of seeing
the world. I hope we shall visit some new coun-

tries.” Butas the ship sailed through the Strait of
“CASKET OF PEARLS,” 181

Gibraltar she turned cold with fear.. “I have had
enough,” she thought, “of Africa and of Spain. I
trust he will not stop here.”

But the magician turned neither to the right hand
nor to the left, and the good ship steadily pursued its
way past Algiers and Sicily and the Ionian Isles
up the Algean Sea until it anchored before the
most beautiful city of the world, domed and min-
aretted Constantinople. Here the magician dis-
embarked, and again the wonderful performing
teapot drew its circle of admirers.

While Flossy bobbed and spun, she observed
keenly all that was passing around her. There
were grave men in turbans and flowing robes,
fierce bandits from the interior in gay, gold em-
broidered jackets and tasseled fez, with scimitars
and daggers thrust in their sashes; the merchants
in the bazars, calmly standing with folded arms
or sitting cross-legged while they smoked endless
chibouks ; silent veiled women and noisy carriers.
It was all a panorama out of the Arabian Nights,
and Flossy recalled the stories from that wonder-
book which had delighted her at home. The
182 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

adventures of Aladdin, and Ali Baba, Sindbad
and the good Sultan Haroun Alraschid. The cos-
tumes and occupations were the same. Princes,
and dervishes, robbers and slaves, snake-charmers,
aud camel-drivers. She could imagine herself the
Princess Badroul Badour, or wise Morgiana.

“T think I would like to be a little Turkish girl,”
she thought ; and then she reflected that the cities
of Damascus and Bagdad were the ones which
figured most frequently in the stories of the Ara-
bian Nights and she hoped that she would not be
transformed just at present.

She had her wish; for in the course of a few
weeks the magician came to Damascus, and now
Flossy opened her eyes in good earnest and tried
.to remember everything she had read or heard of
this ancient city. They approached it from Bey-
rout, crossing the Lebanon and the Ante-Lebanon
ranges, and several mountain torrents, the last
being the beautiful Parphar, the “river of Damas-

cus”

which Naaman thought so incomparably
superior to the Jordan. And nowthe white-walled

city with its onion-shaped domes and slender min-
“ CASKET OF PEARLS.” 183 ©

arets, its great khan and mosques, appeared before
them. Into this city only a few years before the
Christians of Lebancn had crowded, driven by
the fanatical Druses, only to become the victims
of a massacre by the Mahomedans of Damascus,
from which none would have escaped but for the
heroism of the Arab chieftain, Abd el Kader.
Here in ancient times had lived the Saracen Sul-
tans from whom the builders of the Alhambra,
the Mahomedans of Spain and Morocco, were
descended. Here came the crusader to fight the
Turks and deliver the Holy Land, and here is still
to be showa a fragment of wall and window from
which it is said St. Paul was let down in a basket.

All of these events mingled in Flossy’s mind
like the shifting scenes of a magic-lantern; but no
impressions were so fascinating, or so vivid, as
those obtained from the legends of the genii.
What Flossy now saw was this: “The street that
is called Strait” with its latticed windows and
balconies, the bazars of soaps close to the bath
with its odors of orange-flower water and attar of

roses; the bazar of tobacco, so very snuffy that
184 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

it made even a teapot’s nose ache for a good
sneeze; the bazar of sweetmeats with its pots
of candied confections and cubes of fig paste ;
the slipper bazar; the goldsmith’s bazar, a mere
niche in the wall hung with strings of pearls
and embossed armlets, bangles, auklets, ear-rings,
necklaces and ornaments of every description.
Most brilliant of all were the carpet bazars, gay.
with rugs of different colors. There were small
prayer rugs of convenient size to be carried about,
woven with a pointed arch intended to be turned
toward the sacred city of Mecca —and heavy
silken carpets from Persia fit for the floors of pal-
aces. The bazar of swords with its glittering
blades and jeweled scabbards reminded Flossy
of a robber’s cave; and the merchant who sat
regarding the passers-by with an eye as keen as
his daggers might have been the captain of the
Forty Thieves. ,
The magician stopped to examine his wares,
Hassan, the sword merchant, handed him a scimi-
tar of wavy-lined steel so elastic that he curved

the point to the hilt and assured the magician that
“CASKET OF PEARLS.” 185

it had once been the property of the Sultan Saladin.
There was a motto let into the blade, a kind of
ornamentation for which the metal-workers of
Damascus were noted and which has been called
damascening, from its having originated here.
The sword-seller translated the inscription: “I
am the maker of widows and orphans, the bringer
of misfortune and death.”

“Tt is-a famous sword,” said Hassan. “It
would be a fine one for a juggler to perform tricks
with, for it will sever a silken scarf floating in
the air, but he must have a long purse who would
hope to purchase it of me.”

It seemed that the magician’s purse was not
long enough, for he passed on and stopped before
the bazar of pipes, which was perhaps the most
curious little shop of all. Here were long reed-
stemmed chibouks, and nargilehs with coiling
snake-like tubes, and glass vases so constructed
that the smoke could be cooled by passing it
through rose-water. The pipe-seller examined
Flossy curiously, taking her up in his hands to

obtain a better view. “This queer object would
186 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

make a good pipe-bowl,” said he. The longer the
‘Pipe-seller, Ibrahim, caressed the coveted object
the stronger became his desire to possessit. Hav-
ing exhausted every means of temptation in his
power, his crafty brain began to devise unfair
means of securing it. Putting on an aspect of
cordiality, he invited the magician to a feast at his
house. “TI would fain,” he said, “have my family
see the performances of this remarkable creature,
for surely creature it would seem to be.”

The magician was flattered by the merchant’s
attention and accepted th: invitation. Ibrahim's
home was one of the richest in Damascus ; though
plain without, the interior was decorated with a
flashing mosaic of tiles of beautiful colors and
patterns, and the lofty rooms were panelled with
carved and gilded wood-work. Behind a latticed
screen which opened into the harem the women of
the family were gathered to peer at what was
going on in the hall below. In the centre of this
hall bubbled a fountain, and divans cushioned
with crimson velvet and gold embroidery ran

along the wall.
“CASKET OF PEARLS.” 187

Both the magician and Ibrahim kicked off their
slippers on entering, and the host having clapped
his hands, slaves appeared bearing two little tables
on which were spread the first course of the feast.
Strange indeed was the bill-of-fare, including as it
did camel-stew, a pottage with olives, stuffed
cucumbers, curious cakes and sweet-meats and
washing of the hands in rose-water between every
course.

Contrary to Moslem law, Ibrahim plied his
guest with various wines and strong liquors; for it
was a part of his evil purpose to get him thoroughly
intoxicated. Before this was entirely accom-
plished, he exhibited his performing teapot before
the eyes of the beauties hidden behind the lattice,
and after they had been dismissed a story-teller
was admitted to interest the magician and take
his attention from the number of glasses of cordial -
which he drank. Ibrahim sent him away in the
midst of a story, for he saw that the magician’s
head was beginning to nod, and he was in haste
to complete his work of villainy. As soon as the

man was completely overcome with liquor the
188 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT,

slaves of his host carried the magician to the gate
of the city and there deposited him.

Ibrahim, having thus gained possession of the
teapot, exercised all his ingenuity in the vain
attempt to convert it into a pipe-bowl. As the
night was far advanced, and he needed various
appliances which were at the bazar, he gave up.the
work until the next day.

When the magician, with aching and confused
brain from his night’s excess, presented himself at
the pipe-seller’s bazar and demanded his property,
Ibrahim assured him that he had taken it with him
when he left his house and must have been robbed
afterward. With all his skill as a sorcerer the
magician could not be certain that this was not
the fact. At any rate Ibrahim had might if not
right upon his side — and once again the magician
was obliged to bid farewell to the bubbling teapot.

Meantime Flossy lay on one of the cushions of
the divan, regarding the magnificence about her,
and wishing very much that some one would boil
her and transform her into a little Syrian Maiden.

It was not long before little Selim, the youngest
“CASKET OF PEARLS.” 189

child of the household, discovered the strange
piece of porcelain. He played with it a while and
finally carried it into the kitchen. He was asleep
when his father returned from the bazar, and
great was Ibrahim’s anger when his new pipe-bowl
could not be found. Selim’s mother thought she
had seen the magician lurking in front of the
house, and Ibrahim did not doubt but that he had
crept in and stolen his own property. This con-
clusion made him so frightfully cross that his
entire family kept out of his sight.

His favorite wife suggested an expedient which
was at once resorted tc. Ibrahim was fond of
very strong coffee ; it had a soothing influence on
his nerves, and after the eighth cup he was often
known to become almost amiable. Moreover had
not the prophet Mahomet’s son written of coffee,
“O coffee, thou dispellest the cares of the great,
When coffee is infused into the bowl it exhales the
odor of musk and is of the color of ink.’ Ibrahim
should have a pot of coffee of the inkiest dye, and
orders to this effect were issued to the slave cook.

You can guess the result. The cook tried the
190 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

experiment of boiling the coffee in the magic tea-
pot, and in an instant the house was filled with
odorous steam, for the coffee was in the fire, the

pot had vanished, and a little Syrian girl stood
(Twentieth Transformation.)

before the angry cook.

“ Out of my kitchen, mischief-maker,” screamed
the black, brandishing a huge copper ladle. “You
have overturned the coffee. Children are always
working calamities wherever they stray. Away, I
say, to the harem!”

Flossy strayed through the apartments until she
reached the salon in which she had performed the
night before. Here she was confronted by Ibra-
him, who was even a more terrible spectacle than
the angry cook. He was walking the floor with
impatience, sniffing the air with distended nostrils,
for he could smell the coffee, and wondered why it
was not brought to him.

“Who are you?” he asked as Flossy hesitated
on the threshold.

“Tam your little girl,” she replied, “ but I shall
“CASKET OF PEARLS.” 191

not be able to tell my name until you give me
one.”

“What, have I not yet named you?” Ibrahim
asked; “that is indeed an oversight. J can not
have seen you since you were a baby, for your face
is unfamiliar to me. I suppose your mother has
kept you out of my sight, fearing to irritate me, for
it is indeed unpardonable that my wives should
have given me so many daughters. Let me see,”
he added, counting upon his fingers, “there are
eleven or thirteen of them— was ever man so
shabbily treated? And only fifteen sons — what
are they thinking of? What says the Koran?
When any of the land of the Prophet is told the
news of the birth of daughter — ‘his face becometh
black, and he is deeply afflicted ; -he hideth himself
from the people because of the ill tidings that have
been told him; considering within himself whether
he shall keep it with disgrace, or whether he shall
bury it in the dust!’ Nay, never start. It is too
late for that now. You are not to be buried, you
must be married. I must look about for a suitable

husband, and count my dinars to see if I have
192 THE BUBBLING TEAPO1

wherewithal to render a dowry. I will name you
Casket of Pearls, for you are likely to swallow up
much of my treasure. How old are you? Ten!
Another year and you will pass the marriageable
age. I must bestir myself.. Why do they not
bring my coffee? By the bones of the Prophet,
they are burning it! I will have that dog of a
cook bastinadoed within an inch of her life.”

Ibrahim looked so fierce as he uttered this threat
that Flossy fled with great precipitation, and hav-
ing threaded several passages found herself in the
harem. Here the pipe-seller’s various wives were
seated; some at work grinding meal at a handmill,
and some lazily smoking nargilehs, for pipes were
plenty in this house. A young woman who sat in
an alcove in an attitude of utter dejection, sprang
to her feet as Flossy entered and overwhelmed her
with caresses.

“The poor wild thing,” said Selim’s mother;
“she thinks that child is her little girl that died.
Well, let her imagine so; it may cheer her and she
has seemed like to die of grief. Foolish thing! if it

had been a boy one might have understood her






MY PRECIOUS POMEGRANATE BLOSSOM,”? SHE EXCLAIMED.

“

“CASKET OF PEARLS.” 195

sorrow; but to weep so for a girl who is much bet-
ter off dead than alive shows an unbalanced mind.”

Poor Gulbeyaz did not share the opinion of the
others. The daughter she had lost was her only
child and she was overjoyed to welcome her as she
supposed again.

“My precious Pomegranate Blossom,” she ex-
claimed, “now that you have come back to me you
must never leave me. But no, I must not call you
by your old name; it disagreed with you or you
‘would not have died.”

“Father has given me a new name,” Flossy
-Teplied, “Casket of Pearls.”

The mother gave a cry of delight. “It is a pro-
pitious name,” she cried, “for pearls are enduring,
and will not fade like blossoms. Come with me to
the bath, for I have sat with ashes on my head
since the time of your departure.”

Flossy found that she obtained her wish in one
respect at least; the people among whom she now
dwelt were as fond of bathing and cleanliness
as the South American Indians. Instead of a

plunge in the palm-shaded spring, however, she
196 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

was steamed in a marble apartment, rubbed and
kneaded by a negress, and after her bath anointed
with perfumed oils. Then she was robed in gauze
and silks, and, closely veiled, accompanied her
mother for a walk in the city. Inthe market they
saw the story-teller repeating his tales. Gulbeyaz
paused on the outside of the group to allow her
little girl to listen, The story was that of Gulnare
of the Sea and the adorable Prince Beder, so gen-
tle and amiable, the flower of all perfections and
the model of courtesy. Flossy listened entranced,
and returned to her new home quite contented.
If only that terrible father would keep away, she
felt sure that this Syrian life would be very pleasant.

She spent the greater part of the next day on
the flat housetop embroidering a gauze scarf with
gold thread and tiny spangles. In the cool even-
ing she played in the little enclosed garden with
its bed of tulips and hyacinths and its tiny fountain.

As day after day passed, the monotonous idle
life without studies of any kind began to grow
wearisome. She tired even of the panorama of the

streets, the cries of the cake-sellers and the tea-
“ CASKET OF PEARLS.” 197

pedlers bearing on their heads their trays of tiny
glasses and droning “ Ya Karim—ya Allah.” (O
bountiful God. )

Her mother was always kind, but the other wives
of Ibrahim were not. Selim’s mother sometimes
taunted Gulbeyaz because she had no son, and then
Gulbeyaz would draw her veil across her face and
weep silently. “Why do you weep?” Flossy asked
her one day. “Am I not as good as a boy?”

“« Yes, my precious Casket of Pearls,” replied
Gulbeyaz, “ but if I should become a widow my lot
would be most miserable without a son to support
and protect me.”

“T will support you,” Flossy replied confidently,
“We will keep a bazar of cakes — you make them
so nicely.” |

“ Allah have pity!” Sa cried, “that is
the occupation of a man.’

“Then we will sell our embroideries.”

“ Ah! but who would buy?”

“Ts there nothing then that I could do for you?”

“You might become a dancing girl, but their

lives are wretched.”
Â¥
198 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

Flossy did not see how this could be. Dancing
women were sometimes admitted to the harem to
amuse the family with their whirlwind dances and
barbaric music. One of these girls had imitated a
cloud, languidly floating in the sunset, skimming
before the wind, and caught and torn by a tempest.
Another with waving arms had reproduced the
eccentric movements of akite. Flossy had admired
them, and she determined that when opportunity
offered she would learn to dance, that she might
be able in case of need to support her mother. It
made her indignant to see girls rated so meanly.
She longed to prove to every one that they were of
some consequence.

Selim was a stubborn little fellow, a persistent
fighter like the great Sultan for whom he was
named, but unlike him in always getting the worst
of every combat and returning home bleeding and
bawling. It was Casket of Pearls who bound his
wounds and wiped his tears, for she was hungry
for love even from such a little reprobate as Selim,
and when she saw him one morning pluckily en-.

gaged in a fight with a boy much larger than him-
“ CASKET OF PEARLS.” 199

self, and heard him declare in a pause in the battle
that he had a sister who could beat his adversary
even if he could not, she could not forbear running
into the street and tripping the larger boy up.
He turned upon her with a look of rage, but Flossy
stood quietly awaiting his attack. The boy’s fury
cooled into sullen vindictiveness. “I will pay you
yet,” he said as he shook the dust from his fez and
scampered down the street.

“ Come, Selim,” Flossy said to her half-brother,
and she led him howling as usual into the house
where they were met by his mother who accused
Flossy of leading him into mischief and threatened
to sell her to the Bedaween, the wild bandits of the
mountains. Flossy laughed scornfully, for she was
growing every bit as unlovely as the people with
whom she was surrounded; but when she saw her
mother was pained she grew gentle again for her
sake, but under her breath she repeated her deter-
mination —“I will show them what a girl can do.”

The opportunity did not come immediately, for
that night she was taken ill with diphtheria, and as

this was the disease of which little Pomegranate
200 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

Blossom had died, Gulbeyaz was greatly alarmed.
A dervish, or holy priest, was sent for, who mum-
bled some prayers, daubed Flossy’s forehead with
sacred oil, and then, strangest of all, thrust his
rough finger down her throat. An American child
would probably have died under such treatment,
but Casket of Pearls was a Syrian and she survived.
Aftet this she could never see the tall peaked hat
of a dervish without running as fast as her feet
could carry her.

During her illness Ibrahim came but once to
look at her. It was after the visit of the dervish,
and his call was one of curiosity to ascertain the
result of the treatment, rather than any fatherly
interest in his little girl. “Girls are a continual
expense,” he growled, “and it seems likely that
this one is to survive to make me more trouble.”

Flossy heard the words and her heart swelled
with indignation. No one seemed glad that she
was recovering; even her mother said under her
breath, “ My poor Casket of Pearls, it would per-
haps have been better had you died, though I could

not have borne to part with you.”
“ CASKET OF PEARLS.” 201

“T will show them, I will show them,” Flossy
said to herself after each of these speeches;
“they shall both be glad yet that they have a
daughter.”

The time came very soon. A fire broke out in
the kitchen one night, and grew apace, creeping
stealthily into the main part of the house and feed-
ing on the carven wood-work of the grand salon.
Soon the smoke poured through the latticed screen,
filling the harem. Flossy awoke with a choking
sensation and alarmed the women, who ran to the
housetop and dropped by means of ropes to the
street below, for the stairway was in flames. She
was about to follow when she thought of her father.
Ibrahim occupied a room on the other side of the
house, with the burning hall between. The only
means left of reaching it from the harem was by a
long, covered gallery on the garden side. Flossy
ran out upon it, but the flames were streaming from
the windows of the hall below and already were
crackling among its supports. As she fled along
it, the boards were so hot as to scorch her naked.

feet, and she knew there would be no possibility
202 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

of returning upon it. She reached her father’s
door only to find it locked, and though she beat
upon it with all her strength and called wildly, it
seemed a long time before he unbarred it. As she
burst in the gallery upon which she had been
standing fell with a crash, and Ibrahim recognized
- the danger in which he stood and through which
his unloved daughter had come to save him. They
mounted together to the roof ; but here there were
no ropes by which they could lower themselves to
the street. A crowd had gathered, and a ladder
was hoisted. It was too short, and a man mounted
upon the back of another held it upon his shoulders.
Still it did not quite reach the parapet. “ Youcan
lower yourself to it, papa,” said Flossy, “ go down,
don’t mind me.” ‘There was real heroism in her
words, for, for the moment, she forgot that the fire
could have no power over her if she shed but a
single tear.

But Ibrahim, though a bad man, was not utterly
base. He unwound his many folded turban and
lowered Flossy by it till her feet touched the rounds
of the ladder and her hands grasped the sides.
“ CASKET OF PEARLS.” 203

Not until he saw her safe on the ground did he add
his weight to the ladder.

The homeless family were temporarily lodged in
the opposite house which belonged to Hassan, the
scimitar-polisher, a friend of Ibrahim’s. When
the women were safely lodged in Hassan’s harem,
Ibrahim told his friend of his rescue.

“You have a brave girl for a daughter,” Hassan
replied, “and if you are not so impoverished by
this fire as to be able to give her a good dowry, I
would like to demand her in marriage for my son
Ali,”

“There is still an indifferent supply of wealth in
my bazar,” replied Ibrahim, “and in a coasting
vessel which I own that plies between here and
Beyrout. Casket of Pearls has become very dear
to me by the action of to-night; and I will settle
upon her half the profits made by this vessel for
five years to come as a marriage portion.”

_ The sword-polisher was delighted, and the next
morning Flossy was informed that her marriage
contract was signed. It seemed very odd to her,

and she was not sure that she altogether liked the
204 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

idea. She seemed to remember dimly the joyous
occasion of her aunt Josie’s wedding in America ;
but aunt Josie was a lady fully twenty-five years of
age, and had had a very happy girlhood and a
young ladyhood for eight years before the event,
Flossy reflected with regret that she had never rev-
elled in the dignity of a trained dress, had never
attended a “grown-up” party, or led the German,
or taught a Sunday school class, or had engraved
cards with “ Miss” on them, or received a diploma
at Vassar, Smith or Wellesley, or rejoiced in any
of the society privileges that come to American
girls after their debut. Still she had never observed
that marriage was anywhere regarded asa calamity,
and she was sure that any change would be delight-
ful. Her mother indeed wept because they must
be parted and Flossy would have followed her
example had she not remembered in the very
nick of time the consequences of an inopportune
tear,

As soon as the family were settled in a new
house, the arrangemeftts for the marriage went

rapidly on. Flossy did not see the little bridegroom
“CASKET OF PEARLS.” 205

until after the ceremony ; but she was told that he
was only a year older than herself. She remem-
bered her father-in-law, as she saw him when the
magician carried her about in teapot guise, seated
in his bazar surrounded by swords and daggers.
Some of these were damascened in gold with texts
from the Koran, or encrusted with small jewels,
rubies and amethysts, which shone like drops of
blood on the murderous blades. Damascus steel
was noted in the time of the Crusaders, and Hassan’s
ancient scimitar, whose elasticity was such that the
point could be made to touch the hilt, may have
belonged to one of the Saracens of that period.
He was very proud of it, and it was a proof of his
affection for his son that this sword was laid aside
as one of the wedding presents. Flossy felt the
same cold fear which she had experienced on first
seeing this weapon hanging in Hassan’s: bazar,
She looked at the cruel motto on the blade. It
was true enough that all swords were “ makers of
widows and orphans,” and she did not see how it
could be to her the bringer of misfortune and

death ; but in spite of her reasoning she dreaded
206 , THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

it with all the credulity of a child brought up to
believe in evil omens.

But she had many other and more’ cheerful pres-
ents. Ibrahim bestowed upon her the handsomest
set of pipes in his bazar, and. Gulbeyaz spent all
her time now embroidering the wedding outfit.
Even Selim’s mother gave her a head-band of
golden sequins, and Selim himself fastened upon
her arms a pair of bangles, saying, ‘Good fists to
beat the bad boy. Be strong and beat your hus-
band too if he is naughty.”

In secret Flossy packed her doll, for ugly as it
was, she loved it with all a little girl’s fondness,
and it proved a great source of comfort in after days.

The wedding took place in the usual Syrian style
with feasting and music and dances and the bride
was carried home with a torchlight procession.

What was Flossy’s surprise on meeting her boy-
husband to find that he was an old acquaintance —
Selim’s antagonist whom she had tripped up in the
street.

“T told you I would pay you back some day,”
he told her as they ate their wedding feast to-
“CASKET OF PEARLS.” 207

gether, “and now I shall have plenty of chances.”
This was quite true, for although the little couple
were to live at Hassan’s house, and be subject to
the bridegroom’s mother until the coming of age
of the young husband, still Ali found many an
opportunity to tease and vex his child-wife.
Flossy found too that she had only exchanged a -
kind mother for a harsh mistress. Ali’s mother
made her grind meal, fetch water, and do all the
drudgery of the household. She sometimes met
her own mother at the public fountain in the street,
and she noticed that she lifted her jar to her head
with more difficulty and that she looked worn and
weary. Once Flossy left her own water-pot at the
fountain while she carried her mother’s to Ibrahim’s
door; but for this delay her mother-in-law gave
her a beating. Flossy did not cry under the pun-
ishment, for Ali was looking on, and it seemed to
her as if her tears were all dried, scorched with
burning indignation and that she would never weep
again. She hated Ali, for he had grinned when his
mother struck her, and she felt herself growing

hard and wicked. She longed to become a teapot
208 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

again, but it was no use—try as she might, she
could not cry.

This was not at all like being married in Amer-
ica, and once she wished a very wicked thing.
She wished that some one would take the wedding
scimitar hanging on the wall and cut off Ali’s
head with it, so that she could be a widow. She
remembered how widows looked at home — with
long crape veils, crimpy ruffles of frosty whiteness,
jewelry of onyx and pearls; and she thought with
what pleasure she could wear mourning for Ali, if
the scimitar would only fulfil its threat by making
some one a widow.

But something very different from what she had
hoped happened. . Ibrahim paid the family a visit.
He was received with ceremony and given a seat
on the divan of honor. Flossy was allowed to see
him for a moment but under the eye of her mother-
in-law she was afraid to tell him of her unhappi-
ness. After dining, dancing women, who happened
to be in the street, were called in to honor his
visit; and they danced with such abandon that the

coffee cups on the brazen salver caught the infec-
“CASKET OF PEARLS.” 209

tion and danced too, everything movable in the
room rattled and trembled, the curtains in the arch-
ways gently fluttered, the very walls shook and the
scimitar suspended by a silken cord vibrated like
a pendulum three times and then fell, striking
Ibrahim upon the head. Flossy saw him carried
out; there followed two days of suspense and then
came the news that he wasdead. Chance, or Kis-
met the scimitar had done its work, and Flossy
was an orphan and Gulbeyaz a widow.

Flossy heard the announcement without a tear.
Now, there would be a change of some kind, and
of this she was glad. She learned that Selim’s
mother and the other wives who had sons were
provided for; but Gulbeyaz was left in poverty.
She came to bid her daughter farewell. “YT am
going away over the Lebanon,” she said, “to try .
to find my brother who is a water-carrier at Bey-
rout; but he is poor and I fear cannot support me.
If he will not shelter me I shall die in the streets.”

“ My father gave me a large dowry — you shall
share it,” said Flossy.

“No, that will not be permitted,” was the reply.
210 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

“ Then I will go with you.”

“Nay, you are a wife and must stay with your
husband’s mother.”

“But I do not like being a wife. I am only a

?

little girl, and I want my own mother;” and as
Flossy saw Gulbeyaz torn from her and turned
from the gate to a life of beggary, the tears, which
until now would notcome, gushed from her eyes,
the bangled arms waved wildly in the air, then

stiffened, the spangled gauze robe hardened and
(Twenty-first Transformation.)

the magic teapot rolled outside the closing doors
of Hassan’s house — and was picked up with a cry
of joy by the magician who had long haunted the
neighborhood, sure that the time would come when

Casket of Pearls must weep.
CHAPTER XI.
THE CASTE SYSTEM.

T was the festival of the Kumb at Benares, the
| great holy-day of India recurring only once
every twelve years when the Hindus flock in im-
mense throngs to the Ganges to adore the sacred
river.

The sandy plain outside the city skirting the
river, swarmed with the multitude; some of them
just arriving, unpacking their ox carts and pitch-
ing rude tents consisting only of four poles with a
‘piece of matting stretched across them, others pre-
paring their evening meal of rice and curry at
camp-fires; while still a larger number were pass-
ing around gazing with idle curiosity at the hawk-
ers with their wares spread before them on the
ground, the devotees bathing in the river, the self-

torturing fakirs, and the snake-charmers, the bazar

21I1
212 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

of booths, the processions headed by men beating
upon tom-toms, the decorated elephant of a rajah
from the interior, the white-robed Brahmans, and
the tinsel-bedecked Nautch girls. All was noise
and confusion —a strange mingling of fanaticism
and merry-making.

In the very thickest of the crowd an Indian jug-
gler was performing his tricks, which were so
clever as to defy the detection of the closest ob-
server. This may be said of even the ordinary
jugglers of India; but the one now performing
was the celebrated Zal Gubz, the favorite of his
Excellency the Rajah Ramasami who had come
from his distant province in fulfilment of a vow to
drink at the Well of Knowledge at Benares and
to take part in this festival. The Rajah was now
looking down upon the juggler from the eminence
of the howdah, or little house, on the back of his
richly caparisoned elephant. He was as inter-
ested in the cleverness of his servant as a sport-
ing-man in the speed of his racer, and he had
challenged all India to produce an expert who

could surpass his feats.
THE CASTE SYSTEM. 213

“Let us see what he can do,” exclaimed a voice
from the crowd. Zal Gubz, confident of easy vic-
tory and arrogant in manner, came forward. He
was naked with the exception of waist-cloth and
turban, and the appearance and disappearance of
: rupees, which he presently effected with no pock-

ets or sleeves in which to conceal them, was un-
explainable indeed. He caught up a handful of
sand, shook it slowly until it had filtered out be-
"tween his fingers, then opened his hands to release
a bird. He bathed his shaven head, then wound
his turban about it. He next-lifted the turban off
and laid it on the sand: Then giving the light
scarf a whisk a large cobra was discovered coiled
beneath it. The bystanders applauded this per-
formance and asked for more, but Zal Gubz
refused to go on unless some one could be found
to match him.

A tawny-skinned-man with almond eyes stepped
forward and remarked that he was no juggler, but
he fancied he could show them a trick or two; at
the same time he planted two wands in the

sands whose tops were connected by silken cords.
214, THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

Under this tight rope he placed a small porcelain
teapot and, sitting down at a little distance, he
began to play upon a queer drum. After a few
moments the teapot began to rock in time to the
measured beating, and to edge itself nearer one
of the wands. Then, to the amazement of every
one present, it climbed the wand and balancing
itself on the tight rope danced backward and for-
ward, at first slowly, then more rapidly, until it
became only a whizzing spot of color.

The juggler in jealous suspicion rose and
crossed between the new magician and the per-
forming teapot, expecting to intercept some horse-
hair lines by which the movements were managed,
but none of these could be found. The music
ceased and the teapot glided to the ground. Zal
Gubz examined both the ground and the teapot,
but could discover no hidden mechanism; ard
could only acknowledge himself baffled. “T can
beat that trick,” he said, “if I cannot explain it.”

“Do your best, Zal,” his master commanded,
“or I will be your patron no longer,” and the jug-

gler proceeded to perform the Basket Trick. An
THE CASTE SYSTEM. 215

empty basket was handed him and, turning it up-
side down, Zal Gubz began a weird chant at the
close of which he overturned the basket and dis-
covered a small pig. The pig was replaced under
the basket and was heard to squeal piteously.
The basket was lifted and the pig had disap-
peared, In its place stood a jackal which the
juggler declared had eaten the pig. An attempt
being made to cover the jackal with the basket it
was discovered that the animal was much too large
to be placed inside. The juggler next whirled
the basket high into the air and caught it in his
extended hand when it was seen to be full of eggs.
He covered the basket with his turban and tram-
pled upon it, then kicked it over, and a flock of
pigeons issued from it. Then returning the bas-
ket to its owner he sat down with folded arms in
the calm assurance that his rival could do no more.

The strange magician only smiled contemptu-
ously and said, “ Let some one kindle a fire before.
your Excellency.” It was no sooner said than done,

“Now let the teapot be filled with water from

the sacred Ganges.”
216 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT,

Two Brahmins snatched the teapot up together,
rushed to the river, filled and returned it.

“Set it on the fire,’ commanded the magician,
“and watch. That I do nothing, let Zal Gubz
watch me. . That you see what my magic does, I
beseech his Excellency the Rajah to watch the
teapot.”

The suspense for the moment was intense. The
Rajah looked to the loading of his rifle and
pointed it at the teapot, not knowing but a tiger
might leap from the flames upon him, and several
of the bystanders brought forward a fakir who
carried a pair of tongs as an emblem that he
was a fire-worshipper, and invoked his protection.
The fakir seized the teapot with his tongs just as
it began to boil, when to his astonishment the
bubbling of the water was changed to a peal of
silvery laughter, the fire and the teapot had van-

ished, and the astonished fakir saw that he was

(Twenty-second Transformation.)

holding a very pretty little girl at arm’s length

in his sacred tongs.
THE CASTE SYSTEM. 217

The crowd nearly went wild with delight. The
Rajah Ramasami descended from his elephant
and took the child by the hand. “She is the
image of my daughter who died two moons ago,”
he said, “whose remains we burned in the sacred
banyan-grove, and whose ashes I this morning
scattered upon the Ganges. Zal Gubz, can you
surpass this feat?”

The juggler well knew that he could not do so,
but he was not willing to acknowledge himself
beaten. “Let the strange magician,” he said,
“change the child again to a teapot.”

“Nothing is easier,” replied the stranger, and
seizing Flossy he raised the staff which he carried
to beat her; but Flossy stretched out her arms
toward the Rajah crying, “ My father, protect me.”

Ramasami’s keen eyes glittered, his bushy black
whiskers seemed to curl more fiercely, the dia-
mond in his turban danced like a meteor, as
he rushed upon the magician. “You shall not
strike,” he cried furiously. “This is my own little
daughter Nourmahal, whom the Ganges has re-

stored to me by miracle.”
218 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

“Nay, your Excellency,” replied the magician,
“ she is only a mirage, a false image, whom I can
readily convert again into a senseless piece of
porcelain.”

“Indeed you cannot,” Flossy exclaiined. “This
is the first time that you have transformed me
into a girl of your own free will, but you will find
that it is beyond your power to change me into a_
teapot again. You know you cannot do it unless
you make me cry, and whatever you do to me I ;
am determined not to shed one tear, for I believe
Hindu children have a nice time, and I mean to
try being one.” .

The magician was about to reply but Ramasami
motioned him aside with a lordly gesture. “ Be
off, impostor!” he cried, and the words were
echoed by the entire company. ‘Be off im-
postor!.” yelled Zal Gubz in an ecstasy of triumph.
“ Be off, impostor!” shouted the Brahmans, each
seizing him by a shoulder and nearly tearing him
in pieces in their efforts to hustle him in opposite
directions. Zal Gubz followed kicking the magi-

cian’s musical instrument after him, while he en-


FLOSSY TANGLESKEIN AS THE HINDU GIRL NOURMAHAL.


pec i te i a a Na i


THE CASTE SYSTEM, 221

tertained the rabble by mocking and gibing at his
rival’s discomfiture.

_ The Rajah now summoned to his side some
palankeen bearers who carried one of these wheel-
less vehicles between them. It was a long box
with poles extending from each end. There were
sliding doors at the side, and inside the doors
rose-colored curtains of thin silk. . On the floor
was a mattress, and pillow, also covered with silk.
The Rajah assisted Flossy to enter the box, and
ordered the bearers to take up their line of march
directly behind his own elephant. ‘We shall re-
turn home at once,” he said to Flossy, “and in
return for this favor of the gods I will build a
temple to Vishnu.”

Night was falling as they began their journey ;
and night in India is the time for activity, for eat-
ing and travelling, while the glowing noonday is
taken for repose. The highway leading from
Benares was alive with palankeen bearers pursu-
ing their way at a brisk trot, bullocks and humped
zebus drawing creaking carts, post-runners clear-

ing the way before them with their bells, noisy
222 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

donkey-drivers, and foot-travellers bearing torches
and chanting as they went. Flossy enjoyed the
spectacle from her gently-swaying palankeen until
the buzzing mosquitoes forced her to draw the
silken curtains and the plaintive droning of her
bearers lulled her to sleep.

She was awakened by a halt toward morning in
a solitary place; the stars were looking down
silently from between the branches of a banyan-
tree. The shadowy form of a vampire bat flitted
by, and off in the distance toward the jungle she
saw an animal skulking which might be either a
hyena or a tiger. The bonfire which had been
built between her and the jungle had sunk into a
few glowing embers. The attendants were asleep
and the Rajah’s pavilion was at a little distance.
The savage beast prowled nearer, then crouched
low, lashing its tail, with its glowing eyes fixed
upon Flossy, who gazed fascinated from the door
of the palankeen. She knew now that it was no
hyena, but a huge man-eating tiger that was facing
her; but her tongue seemed glued to the roof of

her mouth and she could not scream until the
THE CASTE SYSTEM. 223

beast sprang. Then, as he overturned the palan-
keen and stood upon it clawing furiously to raise
it from the position in which it had fallen, with
the door to the ground, a stifled cry burst from
the imprisoned child. She remembered standing
before the Bengal tiger in Central Park, and trem-
bling in every limb at its fierce aspect. But now
the conditions were reversed. It was Flossy who
was caged, the ferocious beast was at large, and
her only hope was that he might not be able to
get at the opening of her prison.

Suddenly there was another bound upon the
palankeen, the box rocked more wildly and
creaked under the addition of more weight. One
of the bamboo supports gave way, the side was
breaking in, she would be crushed within, while a
terrific combat seemed to be going on outside.
Were there two tigers there fighting for one little
girl? Just as she was fainting from suffocation
and fear several shots rang through the air, fol-
lowed by a confusion of voices. The palankeen
was turned back and her father drew her from it.

The dead tiger lay at her feet, and Zal Gubz,
224 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT,

bleeding from frightful scratches, stood beside it.
He had first heard her cry for help and, bounding
to her rescue, had attacked the tiger armed only
with a long knife.

As soon as Flossy comprehended this she
sprang to his side and, taking his lacerated hand |
in hers, thanked him for this deed of heroism.

The Rajah Ramasami was horror-struck. “ My
child,” he exclaimed, “ you have defiled yourself —
you have touched the hand of an out caste.”

Flossy looked up wonderingly, and Zal Gubz,
trembling in every limb, covered his face with
his hands and staggered away. “What have I
done?” Flossy asked, and her father explained
to her the caste distinctions of India.

“There are five distinct classes of men,” he
“said; “the Brahmans, or priestly scholars; the
Kshatriyas, or rulers and soldiers; the Vaisyas,
or farmers and traders; these three are high caste,
There are also the Sudras, servants of the high
castes and the Out castes which include all men’
not numbered in the four other classes. It is

written in the sacred books: ‘The first part of a
THE CASTE SYSTEM, 225

Brahman’s name should indicate holiness; of
a Kshatriya’s power; of a Vaisya’s wealth; of
a Sudra’s contempt.’ But the out castes are more
contemptible than the Sudras, and of the out
castes it is written :‘Let no man who regards his
religious duty hold any intercourse with them.
Let food be given them in potsherds, but not by
the hands of the giver; their sole wealth must be
dogs and asses, their clothes mantles of the
deceased, their ornaments rusty iron.’

‘You are a member of the Kshatriya caste.
Zal Gubz is an out caste. You have defiled your-
self by touching his hand and we must consult the
holy Brahmans for means of restoring you to your
caste.”

These arguments seemed very flimsy to Flossy ;
but she was accustomed to obedience, and she
listened meekly, although quite determined to
show her gratitude to Zal Gubz whenever allowed
todo so. This was not to be the only time that
the rules of caste would oppose themselves to her
inclination and even to her moral convictions, for

this giant system holds India in its iron grasp,
7

226 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

holding it back from any advance in religion or
modern civilization.
Flossy did not see Zal Gubz again for many
days. She was little Nourmahal now, the petted
child of rank. They had reached her father’s
domain, and the little girl was sent to a beautiful
pleasure-palace near the capital city. This was
the summer zenana or residence of the Rajah’s
ladies. It was a low, wide-spreading structure of
white marble surmounted by one long dome
shaped like the keel of a boat, and by two smaller
ones shaped like a boy’s top. The floors were a
mosaic of agate and looking-glass, the walls were
panelled in sandal wood inlaid with silver and
ivory, the furniture was of intricately-carved teak
wood and the window screens were thin slabs of
marble perforated with a tracery resembling lace.
These windows opened upon gardens freshened
by springing fountains, and sweet with flowers —
beds of tulips, tuberoses, rich-scented lilies and
purple hyacinths, the last a favorite flower in the
Orient, and one which an Eastern poet has com-

pared in the following lines to Hindu maids: -
*

THE CASTE SYSTEM, 227

All day the rain
Bathed the dark hyacinths in vain.
The flood may pour from morn till night

Nor wash the pretty Indians white.

In the garden too were tanks filled with gold-
fish which darted about like sunbeams under the
large-leaved aquatic plants, and came to be fed at
the ringing of a small silver bell.

The little Hindu princess was dressed in the
Indian fashion, in a straight piece of spangled
gauze wound many times about the body and
limbs and gracefully draped over the shoulder.
She wore many necklaces, some of golden coins,
and one many-linked chain in the shape of a ser-
pent that held a small circular mirror in its mouth.
Her ankles were ornamented with slender golden
hoops from which were suspended a number of
tinkling bells, and her fingers were tipped with
henna. The children of the lower castes were not
only less sumptuously dressed, but many of them
were not clothed at all, and this not only in the
hot season, but also when the weather was so cool

that the poor things shivered with discomfort, not-
228 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

withstanding the Indian proverb that, children and
the legs of a stove do not feel cold. In Rama-
sami’s palace however even the servants were well
clothed. There was a little. punkah-puller, a boy
who kept in movement the great fans that ren-
dered the air of the house cool’and pure, to whom
Nourmahal sometimes talked when no one else
was by. He was so patient and contented, and
pulled the punkah cords so untiringly from morn-
ing till late at night, that she pitied him with all
her generous heart. He had been looking sad for
several days and one morning Nourmahal saw that
he was weeping.

“ What is the matter, Ahmed?” she asked.

The boy explained that Zal Gubz was his father,
and that he had now fully recovered from the
wounds inflicted by the tiger.

“TI should think that was good news,” said
Nourmahal.

“No,” sobbed the boy, “as long as he was sick,
we hoped he would get better; but now that he is
as well as he ever will be, we know that he can

never practice his old feats again.”
THE CASTE SYSTEM, 229

“Do you mean that he is so maimed that he
cannot be a juggler?”

“Yes, and as he knows no other trade and has
no money, my poor mother and little sisters wilt
starve.”

“My father will never suffer him to want, for
he was hurt in saving my life.”

“The Rajah our master is very generous to all,
but he is away in the city and the steward is gen-
erous only to himself.”

“Tell your father to come to the garden at
night-fall, and I will myself see that he is re-
warded,” said Nourmahal who ran forthwith to her
mother, telling the story and not doubting a mo-
ment her assistance. But her mother upbraided
her for her rash conduct, and only reluctantly
consented to have a present of a basket of food
placed at the end garden, and to allow the ayah,
or nurse, to wait with Nourmahal in a small kiosk
until Zal Gubz should come and take it. ;

‘The juggler entered the garden in a hesitating
way. He was loosely wrapped now in the linen

cloths which make up the dress of the low-caste

-
230 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

Hindu, and his maimed hand was hidden in his
bosom. He came forward to a little distance from
the kiosk and made a humble obeisance.

“T am more sorry for you than I can tell,” said
Nourmahal, “and I would like to aid you in some
way. ‘What would you like to have me do?”

“Tf you will kindly take my poor family under
your protection,” Zal Gubz replied, “ my heart will
bless you while I am far away.”

“But what are you going to do if you can no
longer practise your tricks of jugglery? ”

“T shall follow the trade of a story-teller.”

“Ah! that is better still. What stories do you
know?”

“T can tell all the legends of the Persians and
thé Arabs; the story of the Combat of Rustam
with the White Demon, the tales of the Mahom-
edans, of Solomon and his genii and flying carpet,
the sacred poetry of the Vedas, the adventures of
Hanneman the Monkey-god, and the story of the
Christians of the Red Table which descended ‘
from Heaven from which their prophet fed a

thousand men.”
THE CASTE SYSTEM. 231

The nurse had wandered toa little distance and
Nourmahal spoke more unreservedly, “I will ask
my father to let you come and tell some of those
stories to me, for I love stories better than any-
thing else, and if they are as good as their titles
sound I am sure you will soon earn a great deal
of money.”

“Tf I could perform a few tricks at the same
time it might indeed prove so; for the people are
fond of tricks, but the stories are all old and well
known.”

“T will tell you what I can do for you,” Nour-
mahal cried impulsively. “I will turn into a teapot
again, and you can take me about and exhibit me.”

“No, no,” exclaimed Zal Gubz in alarm, “your
father, should he lose you again, would cause me
to be put to death.”

“JT am sure he could not,” .Nourmahal insisted,
“and it is very easy; I have only to cry and I will
vanish. I will tell Ahmed that if he sees a tea-
pot lying about the house he is to take it to
you.”

Nourmahal’s suggestion did not sound at all
232 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT,

impossible to Zal Gubz, for besides having wit-
nessed her transformation from an inert thing to
a living being, his religion taught him to believe
in the transmigration of souls. The Hindu poet,
Omar Khay yam of Naishapur, has shown in one
of his poems his belief that the spirit of a dead
man as well as his dust might exist in an earthen

vessel, He says:

For I remember, stopping by the way

To watch a potter thumping his wet clay,

And with its all obliterated tongue

It murmured, “Gently, Brother, gently I pray.”

Zal Gubz replied credulously but sadly, “ Alas
I could not carry you about with me even in the
form of a vase, for your clay and spirit would still
be high caste and I could not touch you.”

“But I would not care,” Nourmahal explained,
“it would not make any difference with me.”

“ But it would injure my own caste,” Zal Gubz
replied, “and I have no money to pay the fine to
the Brahmans.”

“Ido not see how it can hurt your caste when
THE CASTE SYSTEM. 233

you belong to the lowest class of all—” Nourma-
hal pondered wonderingly.

“Nor I,” admitted Zal Gubz, “yet so itis. I
could not take food or drink from your. hand
were I dying.” :

“Tt is time to go in,” said the ayah coming
forward.

“Good night then,” said the child reluctantly.
“T wish I could shake hands with you; but since
I may not —” and here Nourmahal went through
with a pretty pantomime common in the East. She
turned the mirror, which she wore as a locket, so
that Zal Gubz’s image was reflected in it, and then
kissed it shyly. The juggler prostrated himself
upon the earth, and the ayah led her little mis-
tress away. ~ )

Notwithstanding Zal Gubz’s assurance that he ,
could not touch her even in a transformed shape,
Nourmahal tried her best ‘to become a teapot.
She found however that it is no easy matter to
weep at will, and that she could not force herself
to cry when she had no grief to cry for. She.

learned soon, too, that Zal Gubz had gone away
234 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

to seek his fortune, and now the only thing for
her to do was to influence her father on his return
to help the poor man’s family. This Ramasami
appeared very willing to do and for a time the
juggler and his troubles passed from her mind.
Just at this time also, her attention was occu-
pied in a new direction. The Rajah rented his
palace to an English officer and moved his family
to a smaller residence not far distant. Nourma-
hal was interested in seeing the English take pos-
session, for they arrived sooner than they were
expected, on the very day that the Ramasami’s
ladies were leaving. There was a good deal of
confusion resulting in the mingling of the two
households, and Nourmahal watched the new com-
ers with a curiosity in which was mingled a feeling
that this alien life had at sometime been a familiar
one to her. There were subaltern officers in gay
uniforms, foreign servants, a French maid in cap
and apron, and a little girl about her own age
with long golden hair. The child found her way
at once to the garden and stood looking at the

gold-fish darting about among the lotus leaves,
THE CASTE SYSTEM, 235

Nourmahal followed her and, handing her the
little silver bell, showed hér how to call the fish
to dinner. The child had lived long enough in
India to speak a little Hindustani, and they soon
found themselves chatting pleasantly together,
when her mother suddenly appeared and snatched
Nourmahal away with an angry countenance.
“ Have you forgotten your caste?” she asked her
with much irritation. “Did I see you give the
stranger a cluster of tuberoses and receive from
her hand sweet-meats ? ”

“ Only these candies,” Nourmahal replied, hand-
ing her mother some innocent caramels.

“And have you eaten any?” she cried in real
alarm.

“No,” said the child; “would they make me
sick ?”

Nourmahal’s mother threw the offending sweets
into the dusty road. “These people are out
castes,” she explained; “you must hold no inter-
course with them.”

“T do not understand,” Nourmahal replied ;

“the Empress of India is English, and these peo-
236 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

ple belong to the governing class— are they not
therefore of the same class as ourselves?”

“They are all of an alien nation and a false
religion! they are all out castes! the Empress
Victoria herself is an out caste.”

“Why then does my father rent our home to
them, and let them use our furniture ?” :

No very clear explanation being rendered,
Nourmahal felt sure that her father would not
have forbidden her speaking to the little English
girl.

Fully a week passed before she thought of the
family of Zal Gubz. It was possible that her

father also had forgotten them, for he had returned,

to the city. Ahmed’s countenance was very sad
and though he uttered no reproaches or reminders,
Nourmahal’s conscience smote her for she feared
that they might have suffered through her neglect,
and, accompanied by her ayah, she set out at once
to their relief. When she reached their hut she
was surprised to find all comfortable, plenty of
rice and other necessities. Zal Gubz’s wife met

her at the door but spoke to her coldly.
THE CASTE SYSTEM. 237

“ My husband told me before he went away,”
she said, “that the daughter of the Rajah had
promised to protect us. I have been ill with the
fever and unable to work, no help has come
to us from Ramasami. We would have died but
for the English, They have supplied all our
wants.”

As she spoke footsteps were heard approaching.
Nourmahal stepped to the door of the hut and
saw a servant carrying a large basket on his head,
accompanied by the fair-haired English girl. He
set down the hamper in his mother’s hut, and the
little girls again talked and laughed together, play-
ing under the Palmyra palm trees, and greatly
enjoying each other’s company.

“Come up to the house,” the English child said
at length, “and I will show you my doll.”

Nourmahal’s ayah nodded .consent, for she was
curious to see the interior of an English dwelling,
and the four walked on together. But Nourma-
hal not quite certain of her father’s approval did
not enter the house. She only stood upon the

veranda and peeped shyly in. She saw a parlor
238 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

furnished in bamboo, a small upright piano at
which a lady dressed in white was playing, a table
scattered with books and copies of the London
Graphic, pictures on the wall, and outside some
gentlemen playing lawn-tennis.

It was all new and delightful but the music was
best of all, Nourmahal listened entranced, hop-
ing the lady would not stop playing. When she
turned and saw the child she asked her to come
in, but this Nourmahal would not do, They
thought her only shy, and the lady played again
and the little girl brought out the magazines and
showed her the pictures. When the ayah at last
took her away, it seemed to her that she had never
enjoyed so much. Of course this was not her
last visit; she came again and the music was such
a temptation that this time she crossed the thresh-
old, and the English child tried to teach her a
simple exercise. After this she threw prudence
and obedience to the winds, and went often; the
English lady came to the Zenana too and was
kindly received by Nourmahal’s mother. But at

last these doings came to the ear of the Rajah,
THE CASTE SYSTEM. 239

and Nourmahal was strictly forbidden to leave the
Zenana. This was hard indeed but she deter-
mined to obey her father and did not weep until
some weeks after.

_ Ahmed came to her one evening and whispered
the information that his father was in the banyan
grove and wished to speak to her. It was a long
time since she had seen Zal Gubz, and she went
gladly hoping to hear of his success. Something
in the aspect of the man struck her unpleasantly ;
he was changed for the worse, his expression was
sullen, and though well clothed he was haggard
and bore the marks of suffering. After the first
glance of glad recognition he avoided Nourma-
hal’s eye.

“T have only a moment to stay,” he said, “my
companions are waiting for me in the road yonder.
I had permission only to speak to Ahmed as we
went by. He has told me how kind the English
family have been to my wife and children and I
wish to requite their goodness, Ahmed must take
a message to them at once. A band of Thugs

have agreed to make a descent upon their palace
240 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

toward morning, will murder them all and carry
away their goods, unless they are prepared to
defend themselves.”

“ow did you gain this information?” Nour-
mahal asked.

“No matter, it is no false alarm. Let word be
sent at once.”

As he spoke a low whistle sounded from the
direction of the road. Zal Gubz made a low obei-
sance and disappeared, The conviction that he
was a member of the band of Thugs or robbers,
shot through Nourmahal’s mind.

“You must save your father’s friends and ours,”
she said to Ahmed.

“Unhappily I cannot go,” Ahmed replied.
“The Rajah gives a Nautch at the little palace
and I shall have to pull the punkah-ropes all
night.”

“Then I must go,” Flossy exclaimed in despera-
tion, and without waiting to return to the house
she dréw her veil around her, and sped across
the fields the nearest way to the home of her
English friends. When nearly there the hunting
~

THE CASTE SYSTEM. 241

dogs came out and barked at her and she dared
not approach; but the Major came out and
silenced the dogs and she told her story.

He thanked her and said that he would sum-
mon some soldiers encamped not far away and
station them as sentinels. “Will you not pass
the night with us?” he asked, “ you will be per-
fectly safe.” But Nourmahal was in an agony to
get home and the Major had scarcely time to
summon a servant to accompany her before she
was beyond call. Nourmahal had nearly reached
home when she heard a band of horsemen ap-
proaching. Her first thought was that these
were the Thugs, and she shrunk into ‘the shadow
of a little copse., The next moment the glare of
torches illuminated the place, and Nourmahal saw
that these gayly attired men were not assassins
but the guests invited to her father’s Nautch and
— crowning calamity of all—the Rajah was with
them. The bright uniform of the English orderly
caught his eye and the next moment he discovered
the crouching child as well. .

“Where have you been, Nourmahal?” he
242 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

asked; “but no—you need not speak; the
presence of this out caste answers the question.
You are determined to disgrace yourself and me,
and from this hour I disown you. Go with
- the English if you wish — you are no child of
mine!”

Nourmahal followed the retreating form of the
Rajah with a despairing cry. If he would only
hear her explanation — but he struck spurs to his
horse and rode rapidly on —and the sobbing child

sank upon the ground.
CHAPTER XII.
THE SPELL IS BROKEN.
(Lwenty-third Transformation.)

HE Thugs met with so stout a resistance
from the English soldiers hastily gathered
inside the summer palace, that they retired in dis-
order after the first attempt to force an entrance.
Indeed so prompt had been the fusilade poured
upon them from the row of narrow arched win- :
dows that they concluded the soldiers had been
waiting for their attack, and must have been in-
formed of their intentions.
“Who is the traitor?” asked the robber-chief-
tain as he rallied his forces at a little distance.
The reply came from many lips: “Zal Gubz
alone has had opportunity of sending word.”
“Strangle him at once,” was the next order;

but Zal Gubz, anticipating the consequence of his
243
244 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT,.

actions, had fled in the confusion of the attack
and repulse and was now beyond their reach.
As he ran across the shadowy plain he stumbled
- on some round object. Stooping, he recognized
the teapot which the strange juggler had exhibited
at the festival on the banks of the Ganges; and
he remembered that Nourmahal had said her soul
would be shut up in this object, and if he ever
found it it was her wish he should take it with
him.

“ Alas!” he said, “I am disobeying the laws
of caste in touching this casket, since it holds the
soul of my master’s daughter; but since I have
already unwittingly spurned it with my foot I may
be forgiven for cherishing it in my bosom.” So
saying he wrapped it in a fold of his robe and hur-
ried on. Just before dawn he reached a station
of the English railway. Natives were piling one
of the long cars with bales of cotton and among
these he secreted himself until the train had arrived
at Bombay. Here he wandered about the wharves
until he found employment as a sailor. He had

not noticed to what point the ship was bound, his
THE SPELL IS BROKEN, — 245

only desire being to escape from India and from
any possibility of meeting again with the Thugs.
The ship sailed across the Arabian Sea, steamed
up the Red Sea and through the Suez Canal, and
than shaped her course for Gibraltar ; but on the
way the Indian sailor fell sick, and he was put off
at Palermo in Sicily. Here he was nursed in a
hospital and found himself one day quite well
again but a stranger with no knowledge of the
Italian, no money and no means of support. As
he went out of the hospital gate a servant handed
him the teapot, which had been carefully kept for
him during his illness. He took it mechanically.
He wandered through the streets until, weary and
thirsty, he paused beside a fountain and drank
from the magical teapot. Then he sat down in
the shade, leaving the teapot on the rim of the
fountain. A number of womeh had collected,
staring at the foreigner in the strange Oriental
costume ; but suddenly their attention was turned
from him to the teapot, which, entirely of its own
accord, began to balance itself on the fountain

rim, and from rocking and teetering fell to danc-
246 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

ing in the jolliest and most enthusiastic manner.

The women were astonished and Zal Gubz as
much as they. A crowd collected, and a girl with
a tambourine beat time merrily, whereupon the
teapot executed the tarantella and other Italian
dances, proving that although its master.was a
foreigner, it at least was a true Italian. It did
more; when the crowd was greatest and most in-
terested it siddled about among the spectators
showing plainly by its actions that it solicited con-
tributions. The audience good-naturedly took the
hint and nearly filled the teapot with copper coin,
which it in turn deposited in Zal Gubz’s lap.

This performance was repeated every day. Zal
Gubz wandered through different Italian cities,
the magical teapot never failing to gain money.

* All roads, in Italy, lead to Rome ;”’ and it was
in Rome that the teapot now danced. Black-eyed
contadinas in white sleeves and gay bodices and
‘petticoats sometimes danced with it, and little
children folded their arms on the church steps
and gazed gravely at it in the same attitudes in

which Raphael painted his Sistine cherubs.
THE SPELL IS BROKEN. 247

Christmas time was approaching, and through
the half-opened doors one caught glimpses of busy
people arranging the decorations, and heard bursts
of music from the choir where white-robed boys
were practicing the carols and anthems. Christ-
mas-tide filled all the air, and through her dull
porcelain shell Flossy felt it, and could -no more
remain a teapot at this blessed season than a
tulip-bulb can contain the flower shut up within it
when spring rains and spring sunshine are calling.

An old woman was roasting chestnuts at a little
earthen ware brazier at the street corner. Flossy
eyed the fire longingly. “Will not any one set
me on to boil?” she said to herself; but no one
understood her. Zal Gubz was asleep in the sun-
shine, the old woman was dozing too, and there
was no one else in the square. A sudden deter-
mination took possession of the teapot; it-rolled
noiselessly across the square to where the fountain
splashed and waited patiently under the dripping
rim until half filled. Then it jerked and sidled
up to the old woman’s brazier, where it began its

liveliest dance, trying to dance itself on to the fire.
248 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

But weighted with the water this was not an easy
task. Each leap came a little short of the aim,
and the teapot tumbled over, weeping tears of
vexation. Righting itself, it found that it was now
a little lighter, and one joyous bound carried it to
the top of the brazier. There was only a little
water left, and it would not take long for this to
boil; but the bumping noise roused Zal Gubz,
who now looked stupidly about for his teapot.
He saw it just as it was beginning to hum, and
rushing across the square began to scold the old
woman in excellent Hindustani for stealing his
property. But instead of at once snatching it
from the fire, as Flossy feared he would do, he
had delayed to point his remarks with violent
gesticulations, and when he at length turned to

the brazier the teapot had vanished.
(Twenty-fourth Transformation.)

A pretty little Italian girl with plaited hair,
under a folded towel-like head-kerchief stood
calmly waiting with a small coin to purchase some

chestnuts. Zal Gubz scanned the child keenly,
THE SPELL IS BROKEN. _ 249

but did not recognize her, and turned angrily away
threatening to visit the old woman with the police.

“ And now,” thought Flossy to herself, “I won-
der who I am, and where my relations are.”

The old woman handed her a few chestnuts,
and she placed one in her mouth, when a shrill
voice at her elbow cried, “That is not fair, Giova-
nina” (pronounced . Jo-va-nee-na). - ‘You ought
to divide.”

Turning, Flossy saw a beautiful little boy with
curling golden hair. He looked liked the brother
whom she had left at home in America, and Flossy
extended her arms: “ You can have all the rest,
Merry Twinkle, you blessed little fellow.”

The child took the chestnuts, but regarded her
with displeasure. ‘Why do you call me such ugly
names?” he said. “Call me Giuseppi.”

“Very well, Giuseppi; where shall we go?”

“Why home, of course, I am tired,” and the
boy led the way toward the Pincian Hill. He
paused at a gateway in a high stone wall, and
Flossy rang the bell. A kind-faced woman

opened the gate, and the children entered a beau-


250 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT,

tiful garden, bright with dahlias and geraniums,

‘and long rows of orange-trees and green hedges.

A mosaic pavement stretched away to a grassy

terrace where there was a fountain flanked by
ancient statues, all more or less broken and moss
grown, The garden was so very pretty that
Flossy paused before entering the house. A gen-
tleman was seated by an easel near the terrace.
“Who is he?” she asked.

“That is the American artist,” the boy replied.

“Don’t you remember he rented-the top floor? —
y Pp

He wants me to pose for him, but I shall not have

time until after Christmas, for I am to be in the

Mystery at the Ara Cceli and Father Felician.

wants us to come afternoons and rehearse.”
Flossy entered the house wondering whether
this beautiful villa with its garden and statues, its
grand spiral stone staircase winding up to palatial
apartments above, really belonged to her parents.
She mounted the stairs and peeped into a grand
salon with a carved chimney piece and full-
length portraits of cardinals, gentlemen in armor

and ladies in court costumes, ranged around the


FLOSSY TANGLESKEIN AS THE LITTLE ROMAN GIOVANINA,

' THE SPELL IS BROKEN. 253

walls, and a great blue vase on a pedestal in the
centre.

The room had a chilly, damp feeling, and as
she crossed it her footsteps re-echoed in a fashion
that set her heart beating with apprehension. She
drew aside the tapestries and looked into the next
room, which was darkened, and had a shut-up,
close smell. The wood carvings here were white
with dust, and the Genoa velvet upholstery was
tied up in cloth bags. Clearly these rooms, though
elegant, were not inhabited, and Flossy retraced
her steps, and descended the staircase to the
pleasant basement where Giuseppi was eating a
dish of macaroni, and her mother was moving
briskly about her work. Giuseppi paused with
a piece of macaroni lifted half-way to his lips.

“You have been spying about in the Contessa’s
apartments,” he said, “and you know you have
no business to go there.”

“The Contessa has written that she is coming
for the Christmas holidays, and will’ stay until the
end of Carnival,” said the mother, “so you can

_help me put the rooms in readiness,”
254 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

Flossy, or as she was now called, Giovanina,
was interested in hearing about the Contessa and
the Count and the two beautiful children, and how
the Contessa had lost all three through the terri-
ble Roman fever. “That is why she seldom
comes to the villa,” said the mother, “for it was.
here they sickened and died. The place is full of
malaria in summer, but it is then that it is most
beautiful. The garden was overflowing with roses
that summer; how the little ones loved to play
hide and seek among the box hedges. The box
is two hundred years old, and was set out when
the villa belonged to a pope; that is the reason it
is planted in such queer shapes, mitres and keys,
and croziers and crosses.”

“Why does not the malaria kill us too?” Giova-
nina asked.

“Have you forgotten how sick you were last
summer?” the mother replied. “I shall send you
away summers; it is death to stay here.”

Giovanina thought she would gladly have run
the risk of fever for a little summer warmth, for

though there was no snow and ice as at home in
@

- THE SPELL IS BROKEN, 255

Christmas time, the weather was cold and damp
and none of the rooms were really comfortable.
There was no blazing fireside where she could
thoroughly warm through. Instead of this, as
Hawthorne has noticed, people “took their fire-
sides out of doors with them,” and sat on the
sunny side of the street trying to thaw their
fingers and toes with a handful of lighted char
coal in the earthen pipkins which served them
for stoves.

Giovanina and her little brother kept them-
selves warm by running. Every day they were
away on long expeditions and there was hardly a
locality in Rome which they did not explore.
Frequently they wandered together from altar to
altar in the great church of St. Peter’s, and some-
times they strayed through parts of ancient Rome,
along the Forum and the Appian Way; but there
was no one to explain the Column of Trajan to
them, or to tell them the meaning of the triumphal
arches of Titus and Constantine. They had their
own theories and views of the Circus Maximus

and the Palace of the Czsars, the Mamertine
256 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

Prison and the Baths of Caracalla. Giuseppi
was an elfish child and he suggested that these
old buildings had been the homes of giants and
fairies. Sometimes they played they were fairies
themselves, and they found an empty tomb on the
Appian Way with a loosened door through which
they crept and played at housekeeping until driven
away by some one in authority. :

They collected a little stock of marbles; por-
phyry, bits of verde antique and lapis lazuli, snak-
ily mottled serpentine, translucent alabaster, frag-
ments of mosaic and broken pieces of stained
glass, some of which a virtuoso would have prized,
but which were only dishes and eatables for their
play-house. There was a finger among them from
some ancient statue —a lady’s finger, slender and
graceful, from the hand of some Greek goddess or
proud Roman matron— but which Giuseppi fancied
belonged to the fairy who lived in the ruins. There
was a dash of gold too in one of the splinters of
stained glass which told that it had formed a part
of an aureole around the head of some saint, and

this he called fairy sunshine.
THE SPELL IS BROKEN. 257

After they were sent away from playing in the
tomb they carried their store of marbles to the
villa garden, where they were near enough to the
kitchen to have real picnics. One. of their favor-
ite dishes was boiled snails. They were plenti-
ful in the garden; the children would sometimes
gather a bowlful and thought them quite a treat.

Once when they were playing, a lady dressed
in black and with a lace veil thrown over her
stately head, came down the garden walk and
looked at them. They offered her some snails
balanced on the marble finger, but the lady shook
her head sadly, and there were tears in her eyes
as she turned away and entered the house. “She
. must be the fairy lady,” Giuseppi said, “and she
doesn’t like it because we are playing with her
finger.” But Giovanina knew that it was the
Contessa and that she was thinking of her little
children who died.

After she had gone in, a servant brought them
two beautiful bunches of grapes, whereupon Giu-
seppi was sure she was a fairy, for grapes were

out of season.
258 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

But their time was not entirely given to play
and rambling. Giuseppi had to go frequently to
rehearse his part as an angel in the tableaux
which were to take place on the festival of the
Epiphany at the church of the Ara Ceeli. Giova-
nina too was to recite some verses, and she stud-
ied them diligently for fear she should forget
before that great audience. |

Christmas Eve came and they went with their
mother and the artist to see the procession at the
church of Santa Maria Maggiore, when the holy
relic, the cradle of the Infant Jesus, was carried
in a glass case up and down the nave. Unseen
voices in the choir sang the “ Veni Creator” as
it passed them, and one soprano voice trilled forth
so passionately sweet that the artist looked up-
ward, and the mother murmured, “It is the Con-
tessa. No one else can sing like that.”

Then came Epiphany, or Twelfth Day, when all
the little Roman Children receive their Christmas
presents. The squares were filled with booths
where trumpets of every size were displayed for

sale. And through the entire city nearly every
THE SPELL IS BROKEN, 259

one was blowing a trumpet. The Contessa sent
them each one, the artist bought some for them,
and the mother earlier than the others had laid
one on each of their pillows. What times they
had trying to blow three trumpets at once like
some pictured cherubs which they had seen in one
of the churches. Their mother quieted them in
the house for fear they would disturb the Con-
tessa, but after their loudest blast she appeared at
the first landing of the spiral staircase and blew
them a merry answer on a silver cornet. The
artist was coming down the stairs and thinking it
was only the children he sounded a terrific peal
from a great fish horn, which sent the Contessa
flying into her apartments, her fingers in her ears.

In the evening came the Mystery at the Ara Ceeli.
A small stage had been erected in one corner of
the church, and on it was arranged the manger,
Mary and Joseph and the Santissimo Bambino or
Most Blessed Babe, with Giuseppi among the
angels, the wise men and the shepherds in the
background, and a real ox and donkey standing

beside the manger.
260 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

Giovanina recited her verses so clearly and dis-
tinctly that there was a rustle of admiration in the
audience, which was the nearest approach to ap-
plause permitted in the church. And the Con-
tessa sent up two bouquets so large and heavy that
the children could scarcely hold them.

After this things settled back into their old
channels for a time, the children posing for the
artist and looking forward to the carnival for their
next holiday season. They told him of their ex-
plorations among the ruins of old Rome, and after
the painting hours were over he would go with
them and tell them the history of the ruins in
which they were interested. “I do not under-
stand,” Giovanina said after he had explained
some Roman baths, “how it is that you, who are
a foreigner, know all about these things, while my
mother, who was born here, could not tell for
what purpose they were built.”

“The reason is,” the artist replied, “that in
America schools are provided where even poor
children can learn about all the great and noble

things that have been done in the world.”
THE SPELL IS BROKEN, 261

“T would like to go to school,” Giovanina said
musingly. “TI wish I lived in America.”

“Wait a moment,” exclaimed Giuseppi; “ do
they have any carnival in America, and sports in
which the poor people can have their share? Do
you hang all the balconies on your Corso with
tapestry and velvet, and does every one carry his
lighted candle, and shout Senza Moccoli! and try
to keep it burning while he blows out every other
person’s light ?”

The artist was obliged to confess that there was
no such play in America.

“Then I am glad,” said Giuseppi, “that I was
not born there. You shall see, you shall go with
us, and you must fasten your candle to a very high
pole so that others cannot reach it. But even
then you must look out for the balconies — they
will pour water on you from the balconies, and
squirt at you from the windows, and some carry
great bellows and some wet towels with which they
flap out your light. Ah! it is heavenly sport.”

“And then the horses !” cried Giuseppi, “that

race riderless right down the Corso! Some of
262 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

them seem to know they are racing and strain
every nerve to come out first. And the others
have little iron barbs fastened to their gay trap-
pings to spur them along, and the crowd clap their
hands and encourage them. Oh! it is beautiful.
I would not live in a country where there was no
carnival, Bah!” And with a snap of the fingers
Giuseppi expressed his contempt for the whole
American nation.

The gay carnival days finally came and passed,
one byone; but the children looked forward most
eagerly to the last night of the gay festival when
the horses would race riderless down the Corso.
This was to be the crowning spectacle; after it the
heavy days of Lent would come, all gayety would
cease, and the monks would chant misereres.

The streets were more than usually crowded ;
it seemed as if the entire population of Rome had
determined not on any account to lose the Moc-
coli, its favorite festival, The Contessa sat on
the balcony of a palace. She saw them in the
crowd beneath and waved her fan to them and

smiled and bowed.
THE SPELL IS BROKEN, 263

It was inspiriting to watch Giuseppi. All the
morning he had been ‘full of glee and roguish
pranks, and now that the play with the candles had
begun it seemed as if he were fairly wild with joy.
The artist laughed in sympathy with the merry |
child, and the Contessa’s attention was fairly
drawn from her companion’s conversation as he 3
flew like a moth from candle to candle.

“Are children as happy as we in America?”
Giovanina asked ; but before the artist could an-
swer Giuseppi replied,

“Ah! no, my sister. How is it possible? the
poor things have no carnival.”

At that instant the crowd broke and swayed
close to the walls with a gasping cry. The horses
had started before the signal, and were dashing
madly down the Corso. The artist caught Giova-
nina in his arms and sprang into the archway, but
Giuseppi stood unconscious of danger in the
centre of the street, his back to the advancing
horses and his pretty curls blown across his smiling
e face, while he waved his handkerchief and shouted

“Senza Moccoli!” The Contessa shrieked, but
“864 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT.

Giuseppi only looked up to her startled and won-
dering what had happened to her. Then follow-
ing the pointing fingers he looked back and
started torun. It was too late, the horses were
upon him and a powerful black charger, the prop-
erty of a cardinal, struck out viciously with his
heavy hoofs as he dashed by.

There was a cry of consternation as the crowd
closed round the child’s- prostrate form. The
artist dropped Giovanina and pushed his way into

. the street, and the Contessa came down the stair-
case white with terror. It seemed to Giovanina
an age afterward when the little figure was borne
past her into the palace. The king of the festival
rode through the street, as it was brought in, his
harlequin heralds proclaiming “The Carnival is
dead! the Carnival is dead!”

The twinkling lights were all extinguished.
Lent had begun. It was time now to chant the
Miserere. Giovanina pushed close to the physi-
cian who was helping to carry her brother up
stairs. “Is he dead?” she cried.

“No,” he replied, “but he will never dance
THE SPELL IS BROKEN, 265

again; his spine is injured. There were several
children run over. The sport should be abolished.
I think you do not have it in America.”

This was said to the artist. Giovanina did not
hear for she sank in a miserable little heap on the
staircase at the words “He will never dance
again.” Giuseppi, her light-hearted little brother !
The scalding tears gushed from her eyes; and
the doctor as he came down the steps tripped on
a small round object—a china teapot, which
bounded’ before him down the stairs, and shivered

on the marble pavement below.
(Lwentyjifth Transformation.)

The momentary giddiness which always accom-
panied her transformations passed, and Flossy
recognized the familiar studio of Mr. Rose.
There was the picture of the Breton landscape
with the gabled chateau. An African leopard-
skin was stretched before the fireplace, and beside
it a whale’s tooth from the Arctic seas. Some
Roman mosaics lay in a little East Indian cabinet

of sandal-wood. ‘I wonder if it is not almost
266 THE BUBBLING TEAPOT,

time for Mr. Rose’s lunch,” Flossy thought, “ and
whether he will set me on to boil. I am so impa-
tient to be a child again.”

“What did you say?” asked Mr. Rose, coming
in from his etching-room. “I am not an ogre to
boil little girls even if it is lunch-time.”

“Then I am alittle girl already ?” Flossy replied.

“And a little girl who has. been asleep I fancy,”
said Mr. Rose, and then his eye fell on some frag-
ments of porcelain, “What! my teapot broken !”
he exclaimed.

“T am very sorry,” Flossy replied; “but you
see I rolled down the palace staircase, and it was
made of marble, and I could not help breaking.”

“Ts the child daft?” asked Mr. Rose.

But Flossy picked up the pieces, remarking,
“T suppose the spell is broken too, and I shall
never be a teapot again, or any other kind of a
little girl. Well, this is the real Child’s Paradise,
after all—where one can hear about all the
strange countries of the great world, and yet be
that happiest of all created beings — an American
child.”
D. LOTHROP COMPANY’S
_———
BOYD (Pliny Steele).

UP AND DOWN THE MERRIMAC.

1.00.

A vacation trip upon one of the most charming rivers in the world, made in a dory
by the author and his two sons for the purpose of hunting, fishing and a good time
generally.

“The author is a shrewd thinker; his
reflections upon men and things which

BOYDEN (Anna L.).
ECHOES FROM HOSPITAL AND WHITE HOUSE.
t2mo, 1.00. (4)

Illustrated, 12mo,

run through its pages render it peculiarh,
attractive.” — Philadelphia Item.

“Anna L. Boyden has undertaken to
commemorate the services of Mrs. Re-
becca R. Pomroy in the hospitals of the
army and in the family of President
Lincoln during the Rebellion, The book

is a well-written, earnest account of Mrs.
Pomroy’s valuable work as a nurse, and,
as such, an addition which all wiil be

lad to have to the bibliography of the
ate War.’ — Chicago Tribune.

BOYESEN (Hjalmar Hjorth).
VAGABOND TALES. Square r2mo, 1.25.

A collection of characteristic novellettes by one of the most entertaining and most
popular of modern story-tellers. No writer living — scarcely excepting even the great
Bjornstein — so thoroughly understands the Norse character and when into this is in-
fused the American element, the succes of Prof. Boyesen’s tales is easily understood.
There is a breeziness, a vigor and a manliness about his characters that captivate the

reader at once and combine dramatic force with literary skill. A
Crooked John; A Child of the Age; Monk Tellenbach’s Exile;

this volume are:

The stories included in

A Disastrous Partnership; Liberty’s Victim; A Perilous Incognito; Charity.

BOY’S WORKSHOP (A).

By a Boy and his Friends.
dall Waite.

Written by ‘a boy and his friends,’ and
takes you right into A Bay's Workshop ;
tells you how to make and to use a saw-
horse and a work-bench; how to use
tools and to care for them; lets you into
the secret of Look-rests, foot-rests, tables,
cabinets, catch-alls, etc. ; shows you how
to build wooden tents, make a fernery,
construct a railway and train, bind mag-
azines, take photographs, tie knots, and

BRAVE GIRLS.

12m, illustrated, 1.50.

With an introduction by Henry Ran-
Illustrated, 12mo, 1.00.

do a great many other things. It is a
book that every boy would like to have,
and that he ought to have.”’ — 4 dvance,
Chicago.

“Next to actual service with an intel.
ligent_ carpenter or cabinet-maker this
book is to be valued for its instruction in
the art and mystery of tools.?? — Chris.
tian Advocate, New York,

When young people see the name of Nora Perry, Mary Hartwell Catherwood or
Frank H. Converse appended to a story, they prick up their ears at once, for they
have learned to expect something of unusual interest. They will not be disappointed
when they open this book and read about Glen Hastings, Kate Oxford, Sharly Ray-
mond and Bessy May—brave girls every one, but in divers ways. Other writers
almost as well known as these favorites have helped in no slight degree to swell thia
tribute to the girls,
SELECT LIST OF BOOKS,

—————————— OOO
FAITH AND ACTION.

Selections from the writings of F. D. Maurice. With preface by
Rev. Phillips Brooks, D.D. 12mo, 1.00.

Few English clergymen are better known in this country than Frederic D. Maurice.
whose untimely death, some years ago, deprived not only England, but the Christian
world, of one of its ablest religious teachers. He devoted a great deal of his time te
the social and religious needs of the common people. :

Maurice was a dear friend of Tennyson, The following lines in one of the poet’s
best-known pieces refer to his friend: :

“ How best to help the slender store,
How mend the dwellings of the poor,
How gain in life as life advances,
Valor and charity more and more.”

FARMAN (lla). (Mrs. C. S. Pratt.)

Ella Farman is the editor of Wipe Awake, and her books are full of sympathy with
girl-life, always sunshiny and hopeful, always pointing out new ways to do things and
. unexpected causes for happiness and gladness.

THE COOKING-CLUB OF TU-WHIT HOLLOW.
r2mo, illustrated, 1.25,

The practical instructions in housewifery, which are abundant, are set in the midst
of a bright wholesome story. Girls who read this book will not be able to keep house
at once, but they will learn te do some things, and they will have an hour or two of

genuine pleasure in discovering how there came to be a cooking-club and in tracing its

istory.

GOOD-FOR-NOTHING POLLY.

12mo, illustrated, 1.00.

Polly is not a girl at all, but.a boy, a slangy, school-hating, fun-lov'ng, wilful, big-
hearted boy. ‘ Nagged” continually at home, he wastes his time upon the streets and

finally runs away.

into the joys and sorrows of the little appreciated boy-life,
she is a master of humor and often touches a tender chord of pathos.

he book tells of his adventures. Mrs. Pratt hasa keen insight

Like Robert J. Burdette,
Every boy will

" he delighted with this book and every mother ought to read it who is, all unwittingly
perhaps, “freezing ’’ her own noisy boy out of the home.

“* Good-for-Nothing Polly ’ will doubt-
less gain the admiration and win the
graces of as large a circle of readers in

England as it has already done in the
United States.’ — Bookseller, London,

HOW TWO GIRLS TRIED FARMING. i2mo, illustrated,

J.00.
A narrative of an actual experience.

‘“The two girls who tried farming
solved a problem by taking the bull by
the horns, and that is often as effectual a
means as can be resorted to. They had
for capital one thousand dollars. “With
this they bought thirty-five acres of
scraggy farm land. Then they hired out
as lady help for the winter and laid by
enough money to buy clover seed, and a
horse and a few other necessities. Dolly
had learned to plough and harrow and
make hay, and even to cut wond. Both
girls worked hard and it is pleasant to
chronicle their success, Now they have
a prosperous farm, and raise cows, sheep,

pigs and chickens, and as they do every-
thing to the best of their ability, their
products are in constant demand.” — Sz.
Louts Post Despatch,

‘We recommend it to those girls who
are wearing out their lives at the sewing-
machine, behind counters or even at the
teacher’s desk.” — Mew Vork Herald.

“The success of the farm is almost
surpassed by the charm of the record.
It shows a touch of refinement and a
degree of literary skill no less uncommon
than the enterprise which has converted
a bleak hill-top of Michigan into a smil-
ing garden,”— New Pork Tribune


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