Front Cover
 Front Matter
 Title Page
 Table of Contents
 The giant with the golden...
 Blue beard
 The children in the wood
 Valentine and Orson
 Whittington and his cat
 Back Matter
 Back Cover

Group Title: Warne's then and now juvenile series
Title: Valentine and Orson
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00083211/00001
 Material Information
Title: Valentine and Orson and other tales
Series Title: Warne's then and now juvenile series
Uniform Title: Valentine et Orson (French romance)
Whittington and his cat
The children in the wood
Physical Description: 303, 1 p. : ill. ; 19 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Dalziel Brothers ( Printer )
Camden Press ( Printer )
Frederick Warne and Co ( Publisher )
Publisher: Frederick Warne and Co.
Place of Publication: London
Manufacturer: Dalziel Brothers ; Camden Press
Publication Date: [1895?]
Subject: Children -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Legends -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Romances -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Children's stories   ( lcsh )
Children's stories -- 1895   ( lcsh )
Fantasy literature -- 1895   ( rbgenr )
Hand-colored illustrations -- 1895   ( local )
Bldn -- 1895
Genre: Children's stories
Fantasy literature   ( rbgenr )
Hand-colored illustrations   ( local )
novel   ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage: England -- London
Statement of Responsibility: fully illustrated.
General Note: Date of publication from inscription.
General Note: Baldwin Library copy illustrations are hand-colored: probably by young owner.
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00083211
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 002239177
notis - ALH9703
oclc - 229403063

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover
    Front Matter
        Front Matter 1
        Front Matter 2
    Title Page
        Title Page 1
        Title Page 2
    Table of Contents
        Table of Contents 1
        Table of Contents 2
    The giant with the golden hairs
        Page 223
        Page 224
        Page 225
        Page 226
        Page 227
        Page 228
        Page 229
        Page 230
        Page 231
        Page 232
        Page 233
        Page 234
    Blue beard
        Page 235
        Page 236
        Page 237
        Page 238
        Page 239
        Page 240
        Page 241
        Page 242
        Page 243
        Page 244
    The children in the wood
        Page 245
        Page 246
        Page 247
        Page 248
        Page 249
        Page 250
        Page 251
        Page 252
        Page 253
        Page 254
    Valentine and Orson
        Page 255
        Page 256
        Page 257
        Page 258
        Page 259
        Page 260
        Page 261
        Page 262
        Page 263
        Page 264
        Page 265
        Page 266
        Page 267
        Page 268
        Page 269
        Page 270
        Page 271
        Page 272
        Page 273
        Page 274
        Page 275
        Page 276
        Page 277
        Page 278
        Page 279
        Page 280
        Page 281
        Page 282
    Whittington and his cat
        Page 283
        Page 284
        Page 285
        Page 286
        Page 287
        Page 288
        Page 289
        Page 290
        Page 291
        Page 292
        Page 293
        Page 294
        Page 295
        Page 296
        Page 297
        Page 298
        Page 299
        Page 300
        Page 301
        Page 302
        Page 303
        Page 304
    Back Matter
        Back Matter
    Back Cover
        Back Cover
Full Text

9ir~3~~d' rc-


The Baldwin Lbrary
1mB crid

~ ;'I















.. ... .

HERE 'i n 1^^"m ad his
: .. .- If om it
,, tl t -- 1.1 p- per in" .

all that he undertook, and that he shod one day mry

he found the parents of the boy -were so poor he was
'" .-- A *r "

rli' tll)'y 'll l ut w itl. ", t1 ,!v hy l ,1 :-,,, :if w horn it
wa:t 11,:,t i.t.1l th.,t lie -,,.' il p ,ii :,li er in
all that he undertook, and that he should one day marry
the king's daughter. The king heard of this; and when
he found the parents of the boy' were so poor, he was
very ill pleased, and determined that he should never
marry his daughter. So he went, disguised as a stranger,
to the parents, and asked them whether they would sell
him their son.
s 223


No," said they; but as he begged very hard, and
said he would give a great deal of money for the child,
and would take great care of him, and as they had
scarcely bread to eat, they at last agreed, thinking to
themselves, he is a lucky child; no harm will happen
to him.
The king took the child, put it into a box, and rode
away; but when he came to a deep stream, he threw it
into the water, saying to himself, "My daughter shall
never have you for a husband." So the box floated
down the stream, but no water reached the child; till, at
last, about two miles from the king's capital, it stopped
at a mill-dam. The miller soon saw it, and took a long
pole and drew it towards the shore, and finding it heavy,
thought it was full of money; but when he opened it, he
found a pretty little boy. Now, the miller and his wife
had no children, and they rejoiced to see the foundling,
saying, Heaven has sent it to us." So they treated the
boy very kindly, and brought him up carefully in vir-
Stuous principles. $
About thirteen years afterwards, the king came by
chance to the mill, and asked the miller if that was
his son.
No," said he; "I found him, when a babe, in a box
in the mill-dam."
How long ago ?" asked the king.
About thirteen years," said the miller.


Indeed !" said the king: "can you spare him to carry
a letter to the queen ? it will give me much pleasure, and
I will present him with two gold pieces for his trouble."
As your majesty pleases," said the miller/
Now, the king had soon guessed that this was the
child whom he had tried to drown; and he wrote a letter
by him to the queen, saying: "As soon as the bearer of
th\s letter reaches you, give orders to kill and bury him,
so that all may be over before I return."'
The young man set out with this letter, but missed his
way, and came in the evening to a great wood Though
it was quite dark, he saw a light afar off, to vhich he
directed his steps, and found that it came from a little
cottage. There was no one within except an old woman,
who was alarmed at seeing him, and said, What brings
you here, and where are you going ? '
I am going to the queen, to whom 1 am taking a
letter; but I have lost my way, and shall be glad if you
will give me a night's rest."/
You are very unlucky," said she, "for this is a rob-
bers' hut; and if the band4me back while you are here,
they will murder you.",
I am so tired, however," replied he, "that I can go
no farther;" so he laid the letter on the table, stretched
himself out upon a bench, and fell asleep.
When the robbers came home and saw him, they asked
the old woman who the strange lad was. #


I have given him shelter for charity," said she; "he
has a letter to carry to the queen, and has lost his way."
The robbers took up the letter, broke it open, and read
the orders contained in it to murder the bearer. Then
their leader tore it, and, thinking to play the king a
trick, wrote another letter, desiring the queen, as soon as
the young man reached her, to marry him to the king's
daughter. Meantime they let him sleep on till morning,
and then showed him the right way to the queen's palace;
who, as soon as she had read the letter, made all ready
for the wedding; and as the young man was very hand-
some, the princess took him willingly for her husband,
and they lived happily together.:
-z fta a while the king came 'back; and when he saw
the predictionjfulfilled, and tha.li'this child of fortune was
married to his daughter, he asked:eagerly how this had
happened, and what his letter..laukgid.
Dear husband," said thf' queen, "here is your letter;
read it for yourself."
The king took it, and seeing that another letter had
f -n sent instead of his, asked his son-in-law what he
S had done with the letter which he had given into his

I know nothing of it," said he; "it must have been
taken away in the night while I slept."
Then the king was in a great rage, and said: "No
man shall have my daughter who does not go down and


bring me three golden hairs from the head of the giant
who reigns in the wonderful mountain; do this, and you
shall have my daughter."
That I will soon do," said the lucky youth: so he
took leave of his wife, and set out on his journey.

I, -

/", V


BY and by our hero came to a great city, where the
guard of the gate stopped him, and asked what trade he
followed, and what he. knew.
I know everything," said he.
If that be so," replied they, be so good as to tell us
why our fountain in the market-place, that used to flow
with wine, will now not even give water,? Tell us this,
and we will give you two asses laden with gold."
With all my heart," said he, when I come back."
He then continued his journey, and came to another
city, and there the guard also asked him what trade he
followed, and what he understood.
I know everything," answered he.
Then pray oblige us by saying how it happens that a
tree which used to bear golden apples, does not now even
bear a leaf ?"
Most willingly," saiile, when I return."
His way next led him to the side of a great lake, over
which he must pass. The ferryman asked, as the others
had done, what was his trade, and what he knew.


Everything," said he.
Then," said the other, "pray tell me why it is that I
am bound for ever to ferry people over this water, and
cannot get free? I will reward you handso ~ely"'
I will t~l you all about it," said the young man, as
I come home."
When he had passed the water, he came to the great:
mountain, which looked very black and gloomy. The
giant lived in a cave hollowed out of the solid rock.
When the youth knocked at the door, he found the giant
was not at home, but his grandmother was sitting in her
What do you seek?" said she to the prince.
Three golden hairs from the giant's head," answered
he; otherwise I shall lose my wife."
I am sorry for you," said she; "when he returns
home, I am afraid he will kill you; yet I will try what
I can do."
Then she showed him a hole in the wall, and told him
to hide himself there; and if he kept himself quite quiet,
he might be safe.
Very well," said he; but I want also to know why
a fountain that used to flow with wine is now dry; why
the tree that bore golden apples is now leafless; and
why it is that the ferryman cannot get away."
You ask three questions that are difficult to answer,"
said the old lady; "but lie quiet, and listen to what the
giant says when I pull the golden hairs."


As soon as night set in, the giant himself appeared.
When he entered, he began to snuff up the air, and
cried, "What's the matter here? surely some stranger is
in my cave."
Then he searched all round in vain; and the old dame
scolded and said: "Don't be turning everything topsy-
turvy that I have just set in order."
Upon this he took his supper, laid his head on her lap,
and soon fell asleep, as he was very tired. As soon as he
began to snore, she seized one of the golden hairs, and
pulled it out.
Woman!" cried he, starting up, "what are you
about ?"
Oh, I have heard that the fountain in the market-
place that used to run with wine has become dry; what
can be the reason ?"
Ah if they but knew that," said the giant: under
a stone in the fountain sits a toad; when they kill him,
it will flow again."
This said, he fell asleep, and snored so loud that the
window shook, and then the old lady pulled out another
What would you be at?" cried he in a rage.
Don't be angry," said she; "I want to ask you
another question."
What is that ?" said he.
Oh! in a groat kingdom there was a fruit-tree that


used to bear golden apples, and now has not even a leaf
upon it; what is the reason of that ?"
Aha !" said the giant, "they would like very well to
know that secret. At the root of the tree a mouse is
gnawing: if they were to kill him, the tree would bear
golden apples again; if not, it will soon die. Now have
done with your questions, and let me sleep in peace; if
you wake me again, I shall box your ears."
Then he fell once more asleep; and when she heard
him snore, she pulled out the third golden hair, and the
giant jumped up, and was going to make sad work; but
she soothed him, and said; Only this once, and I will
never trouble you again. There is a ferryman who is
doomed to ply backwards and forwards over a lake,
and can never be set free; what is the charm that
binds him?"
He is a silly fool!" said the giant: "let him give
the rudder into the hand of the first passenger; he will
then be free, and the other will take his place. Now let
me sleep."
In the morning the giant arose and went out; and the
old woman having released the young man from his
prison, gave him the three golden hairs, asked him if he
had heard and understood all that the giant had said,
and, on his replying that he had, she sent him on
his way.
He now left the mountain, and soon came to the


Sferryman, who knew him again, and asked for the answer
which he had said he would give him.
Ferry me over first," said he, "and then I will
tell you."
When the boat reached the other side, he told him to
give the rudder to the first passenger, and then ran away.
He next came to the city where the barren tree stood.
"Kill the mouse," said he to the watchman, that gnaws
the root, and you will have golden apples again." They
gave him two ass-loads of gold; and he journeyed on to
the city where the fountain had dried up, and the guard
asked his answer to their question. So he told them to
kill the toad; and they thanked him, and gave him also
two asses laden with gold.
And now at last the youth reached home and his wife
rejoiced exceedingly to see him, and to hear of his good
fortune. He gave the three golden hairs :to the king,
who could no longer raise any objection to him; and
when he saw the four asses laden with gold, cried out in
a transport of joy (for he was very fond of money):
"Dear son-in-law, where did you find all this gold ?"
Beyond a lake," said the youth, "where, no doubt,
there is still plenty to be had."
Pray, tell me," said the king, quite anxiously, "may
I go and get some too ?"
As much as you please," replied the other: "you
will see the ferryman on the lake; tell him to carry you


across, and y-ou will soon arrive at the cities from whence
the gold came."
Away went the greedy old king with all speed; and
when he came to the lake he beckoned to the ferryman,
who took him into his boat; and when he was about to
quit, he put the rudder into his hand and ran off, leaving
the old king to ferry away as a punishment.
And is his majesty plying there still "
No doubt of it; for who, do you think, would take the
rudder out of his hands ?

-- t

_.--_ _*-_ .. .-" ." -^"

1' .-- ', _- -- ----k
-_ 2 -----------


I: 1 ~~)

ta -L ii h m

235 -4


He had many houses and castles; his dishes and plates
were of gold and silver; his rooms were hung with
embroidered tapestry; in short, everything was in the
most princely style. Unfortunately, however, he had a
blue beard, which made him look so very frightful, that
none of the ladies around would venture to go into his
Now, a certain lady, who lived very near him, had
two daughters, both very beautiful. Bluebeard asked
her to bestow one of them upon him for his wife, leaving
it to herself to choose which of the two it should be.
Both the young ladies said, over and over again, that
they would never marry a man with a blue beard; yet,
in order to be as civil as they could, each of them said
that she only objected to him because she was loth to
hinder her sister from so honourable a match: the truth
was, that, besides the circumstance of his blue beard,
they knew that he had already married several wives,
and nobody could tell what had become of any of them.
Some people, indeed, did not scruple to say that he had
put them to a violent death.
Bluebeard, in order to gain their favour, asked the
lady and her daughters, with some of their friends and
acquaintances, to accompany him to one of his castles;
the invitation was accepted, and a whole week was
passed in feasts and merry-makings of all kinds. The
time rolled on so pleasantly, that the youngest of the


two sisters began to think that the beard was not so very
blue, and that the gentleman who owned it was a very
civil and obliging person; in short, the marriage was
celebrated not long after.
About a month after the wedding, Bluebeard told his
lady that he was obliged to leave her for six weeks at
least, as he had some business of importance which called
him to a distance. He desired her to be sure to make
herself happy, and to deny herself nothing during his
absence; to invite as many of her friends as she liked,
and to treat them with all sorts of dainties.
"Here," said he, "are all the keys of the castle; as for
this little key, it belongs to the closet at the end of the
long gallery. I give you free leave," he continued, "tc
open and do what you like with all the rest; but this
closet I forbid you to enter, or even to put the key into
the lock, on any account whatever. If you do not obey
me in this particular, but open the closet-door, I warn
you to expect the most terrible of punishments."
The wife promised to obey his orders in the most
punctual manner; and Bluebeard, bidding her adieu,
mounted his horse and rode away.
When Bluebeard was gone, the friends of his wife did
not wait to be invited, so eager was their curiosity to
behold all the riches and rarities that she had become
mistress of by her marriage; for none of them had dared
to go to the wedding, or to visit her since, on account of


the bridegroom's blue beard, which inspired them all with
terror. As soon as they arrived, they ran over Blue-
beard's castle from tower to tower, from room to room,
from closet to closet, observing, with surprise and delight,
that each one they came to was richer and more beautiful
than the one they had just quitted. In a word, nothing
eould exceed the splendour of what they saw, and they
failed not to admire and envy the good fortune of the
lady of the house. The wife, meanwhile, hardly thought
of the fine speeches they made to her; she was so intent
all the time upon discovering the secrets of the closet
which she had been strictly forbidden to open.
At last her curiosity became so great, that, without
thinking more of her guests, she slipped away down a
private staircase that led to the gallery, and her haste
was so great that she was two or three times in danger
of falling and breaking her neck. When she reached the
door of the closet she stopped a few minutes, and the
thought occurred to her that her disobedience might
perhaps be attended by fatal consequences. But curio-
sity impelled her so powerfully that, resolved to gratify
it at- all hazards, she quickly put the little key into the
lock and turned it, and the door flew wide open.
The closet had but one small window of dark-coloured
glass, so that at first she could see nothing distinctly;
but in a short time, her eyes growing accustomed to
darkness, she saw with horror that the floor was covered


all over with blood, as if several persons had been killed
there. She immediately remembered what she had
heard of Bluebeard's former wives, and now she believed
that this was the very room in which he had put them
to death.
The poor young lady, as may be supposed, was ready
to faint with fear; and, in her confusion, the key of the
closet, which she had drawn from the lock, fell from her
hand on the floor.
When she had a little recovered from her fright, she
picked up the key, locked the door, and hastened back
to the company; but she trembled so greatly that she
could hardly speak to them. Finding that the key of
the closet had got stained with blood in falling on the
floor, she endeavoured to cleanse it by wiping it with her
handkerchief; but the blood was immoveable: she then
washed it, and afterwards scoured it with sand and brick-
dust, but the blood still remained on the key, in spite of
all her efforts. The truth is, the key was an enchanted
one, the gift of a fairy, and could not be cleansed: as
fast as the blood was rubbed off one spot, it appeared
on another.
The company soon after this returned home, wondering
at the altered appearance of the bride. Her sister Anne
only remained behind to keep her company.
Bluebeard shortly arrived at home, and his wife re-
ceived him as cheerfully as she could. The next morning


he asked her for the keys; she gave them to him, but
her hand trembled so much, that Bluebeard at once
guessed that something was wrong.
"How is it," said he, "that the key of the closet is not
here, with the others ?"
"I must have left it up stairs on my dressing-table,"
said the wife.
"Bring it me immediately," replied Bluebeard.
After walking backwards and forwards several times,
not knowing what to do, she at last took it up and
brought it to Bluebeard. Having taken it into his
hands and examined it, he asked his wife, How came
this stain on the key ?"
"I am sure I do not know," was all that the poor
terrified lady could reply.
"You do not know !" returned Bluebeard sternly;
"you know too well, madam! You have been in the
closet which I forbade you to enter. Very well; you
shall go there again for your disobedience, and you shall
be dealt with as I have already done with your pre-
The poor lady threw herself on her knees before her
husband, weeping bitterly and displaying all the signs of
a true repentance for having disobeyed him, and suppli-
cated his pardon for her first fault in the most affecting
terms. Her beauty and distress would have melted a
rock; but Bluebeard was immoveable.


"No, madam," said he, "you shall die this very
"Alas if it must be so," answered she, regarding her
relentless husband with streaming eyes, "at least let me
retire for a short time to prepare myself for death."
"You shall have half a quarter of an hour," retorted
Bluebeard, "but not a minute longer."
When Bluebeard had left her she ran up to her room
and said to her sister, who was still with her, "Sister
Anne, pr'ythee run to the top of the tower and see if my
brothers are in sight; this is the day they promised to
visit me. If you see them, make signs to them to gallop
hither as fast as they can."
The sister immediately ascended to the battlements of
the tower, and looked far and wide over the country;
while the poor trembling lady cried out to her, "Anne!
sister Anne do you see any one coming ?"
Her sister said, "I see nothing but the sun, which
makes a mist, and the grass, which looks green."
In the meanwhile, Bluebeard, with a great sword in
his hand, called in a voice of thunder to his wife, "Come
down at once, or I will fetch you!"
"One moment, I beseech you," replied she; and again
called softly to her sister, Sister Anne do you see any
one coming ?"
To which she answered, "I see nothing but the sun,
which makes a mist, and the grass which looks green."
241 10


Bluebeard now again cried out, "Come down, I say,
this very moment, or I will come and fetch you."
"I am coming; indeed I will come in one minute,"
sobbed his wretched wife. Then she once more cried
out, "Anne sister Anne do you see any one coming?"
I see," said her sister, "a cloud of dust a little to the
"Do you think it is my brothers ?" said the wife.
"Alas, no! dear sister," replied she; "it is only a flock
of sheep."
"Will you come down, madam?" said Bluebeard, ii.
the greatest rage.
"Only one single moment more," said she. And then
she called out for the last time, "Sister Anne! sister
Anne do you see no one coming ?"
"I see," replied her sister, "two men on horseback
coming, but they are still a great way off."
Thank God !" cried she, "it is my brothers; beckon
them to make haste."
Bluebeard now cried out so loud for her to come down,
that his voice shook the whole house. The poor lady,
with her hair loose, and all in tears, now came down, and
fell on her knees, begging him to spare her life; but he
stopped her, saying, "It is of no use; you shall die:"
and seizing her by the hair, he raised his sword to kill
her. The poor woman now begged a single moment to
say one prayer. No, no," said Bluebeard, "I will give


you no more time; you have had too much already."
He again raised his sword; but just at this instant a
loud knocking was heard at the gates, which made Blue-
beard wait for a moment to see what it was. The door
flew open, and two knights in full armour came in, with
their swords in their hands, and ran straight to Blue-
beard, who, seeing they were his wife's brothers, tried to
escape from their presence; but they pursued and seized
him before he had gone twenty steps, and plunging their
swords into his body, he fell down dead at their feet.
The poor wife, who waa almost dead too with fear,
was not able at first to rise and embrace her brothers;
but she soon came tc herself, and told them the whole
story. As Bluebeard had no heirs, she now found her-
self by his death the owner of great wealth. She gave a
part of her riches as a marriage-dowry to her sister Anne,
who was soon afterwards married to a neighboring
count. Some of the money she laid out for her two
brothers; some she gave to the poor, and to the service of
religion, in remembrance of her happy deliverance. She
became wiser than she had ever been before, and spent
the rest of her life in great peace and happiness.


--?,'e ,: "-- R M' 4 !

,.".... rents dear,
> ', -" ,

i 1 "

',Now ponder ell, you pa"

iThese words which I shall


A doleful story you shall hear
In time brought forth to light.
A gentleman of good account
In Norfolk dwelt of late,
Who did in honour far surmount
Most men of his estate.

Sore sick he was, and like to die,
No help his life could save ;
His wife by him as sick did lie,
And both possessed one grave.
No love between these two was lost,
Each was to other kind;
In love they lived, in love they died,
And left two babes behind:

The one a fine and pretty boy,
Not passing three years old;
The other a girl more young than he,
And framed in beauty's mould.
The father left his little son,
As plainly doth appear,
When he to perfect age should come,
Three hundred pounds a year.


And to his little daughter Jane
Five hundred pounds in gold,
To be paid down on marriage-day,
Which might not be controlled:
But if the children chance to die
Ere they to age should come,
Their uncle should possess their wealth;
For so the will did run.

"Now, brother," said the dying man,
"Look to my children dear;
Be good unto my boy and girl,
No friends else have they here:
To God and you I recommend
My children dear this day;
But little while be sure we have
Within this world to stay.

"You must be father and mother both,
And uncle all in one;
God knows what will become of them
When I am dead and gone."
With that bespake their mother dear:
0 brother kind," quoth she,
You are the man must bring our babes
To wealth or misery :


And if you keep them carefully,
Then God will you reward;
But if you otherwise should deal,
God will your deeds regard."
With lips as cold as any stone
They kiss'd their children small:
" God bless you both, my children dear; "
With that the tears did fall.

These speeches then their brother spake
To this sick couple there :
"The keeping of your little ones,
Sweet sister, do not fear:
God never prosper me nor mine,
Nor aught else that I have,
If I do wrong your children dear
When you are laid in grave."

The parents being dead and gone,
The children home he takes,
And brings them straight unto his house,
Where much of them he makes.
He had not kept these pretty babes
A twelvemonth and a day,
But, for their wealth, he did devise
To make them both away.


He bargain'd with two ruffians strong,
Which were of furious mood,
That they should take these children young,
And slay them in a wood.
He told his wife an artful tale,
He would the children send
To, be brought up in fair London,
With one that was his friend.

,' ),

\'AY tlien went those pretty
I, Lbes
P i Rjiicing at that tide,
R-j :i.ilig with a merry
M ind,
Io /? ThI:. should on cockhorse

iThey prate and prattle
SAs they rode on the way,
To those that should their
butchers be
And work their lives, decay.


So that the pretty speech they had,
Made murder's heart relent:
And they that undertook the deed
Full sore did now repent.
Yet one of them, more hard of heart.
Did vow to do his charge,
Because the wretch that hired him
Had paid him very large.

The other won't agree thereto,
So here they fall to strife;
With one another they did fight
About the children's life:
And he that was of mildest mood
Did slay the other there,
Within an unfrequented wood:
The babes did quake for fear!

He took the children by the hand,
Tears standing in their eye,
And bade them straightway follow him,
And look they did not cry:
And two long miles he led them on,
While they for food complain :
Stay here," quoth he, "I'll bring you bread
When I come back again."


These pretty babes, with hand in hand,
Went wandering up and down;
But never more could see the man
Approaching from the town :
Their pretty lips with blackberries
Were all besmear'd and dyed,
And when they saw the darksome night
They sat them down and cried.

Thus wander'd these poor innocents,
Till death did end their grief,
In one another's arms they died,
As wanting due relief;
No burial this pretty pair
Of any man receives,
Till Robin-redbreast piously
Did cover them with leaves.

And now the heavy wrath of God
Upon their uncle fell;
Yea, fearful fiends did haunt his house,
His conscience felt an hell:
His barns were fired, his goods consumed,
His lands were barren made,


Ilis cattle died within the field,
And nothing with him stay'd.

And in a voyage to Portugal
Two of his sons did die
And, to conclude, himself was brought
To want and misery :
Hie pawn'd and mortgaged all his land
Ere seven years came about;
And now at length this wicked act
Did by this means come out:

The fellow that did take in hand
These children for to kill,
Was for a robbery judged to die,
Such was God's blessed will:
Who did confess the very truth,
As here hath been displayed:
Their uncle having died in jail,
Where he for debt was laid.

You that executors be made,
And overseers eke,
Of children that be fatherless,
And infants mild and meek;

* I
Iii-;":l '

r 4'

YOU ,W k ..

-x !';-a- -

g 7

"'.3.- "'---'



THIFII''. tloii' I Ei~iii Pepin.

xvi a.k.-'l n ii~_i.e by
2arid princes.


The lady's choice fell upon Alexander, emperor of Con
stantinople, who came to the court of King Pepin to
espouse the princess. Great rejoicings took place.on the
occasion, in all parts of the kingdom; and soon after the
marriage the emperor took, his leave, and carried his
lovely bride in great splendour and triumph to Con-
The Emperor Alexander's prime minister was a selfish
and tyrannical man; but unhappily his influence with
the emperor was very great. This man, observing the
gentleness and sweetness of the Lady Bellisance, began
to fear that she would undermine his influence, and he
wickedly resolved to seek the destruction of the innocent
empress. The emperor was of a credulous and suspicious
temper, and the prime minister found means at length to
infuse into his mind suspicions of the empress. One day
when the emperor was alone, he entered the apartment,
and prostrating himself at his master's feet, said: May
heaven guard your majesty from the base attempts of the
wicked and treacherous! I seek not the death of any
man, nor may I reveal the name of the person who has
intrusted to me a dreadful secret; but, in the most solemn
manner, I conjure your majesty to beware of the designs
of your empress; for that beautiful and attractive lady
is faithless and disloyal, and is even now planning your
overthrow and dethronement. Alas my heart is ready
to burst with indignation, to think that a lady of such


charms, and the sister of a great king, should become so
dishonourable and wicked."
The emperor, giving implicit faith to his favourite's
tale, could no longer restrain his fury; and abruptly
leaving him, he rushed into the apartment of the empress,
and in the fiercest manner dragged the fair Bellisance
about the chamber by her long and beautiful hair.
"Alas.! my dear lord," she cried, "what moves you to
this outrage ?"
Base wretch!" he exclaimed, "I am but too well
informed of your wicked proceedings;" then dashing her
with violence upon the ground, he left her speechless.
The attendants of the empress, finding her lying senseless
on the floor, uttered loud screams, which presently brought
all the courtiers into the chamber. Every one was sorry
for their amiable queen; and the nobles demanded an
audience of the emperor, to represent to him the wrongs
he had done to an honourable lady, with whom no one
before had ever found any fault. But the emperor was
yet mad with passion, and to their representations he
answered, "Let no man dare to defend her who has
basely betrayed me. She shall die; and they who inter-
fere in her behalf shall partake in the dreadful punish-
ment that awaits disloyalty and treason."
The empress being recovered from her swoon, then fell
upon her knees, and thus addressed the emperor: Alas !
my lord, take pity on one who never harboured an evil
257 17


thought against your person or dignity; and if not upon
me, at least I implore you have compassion on your two
children! Let me be imprisoned or put to death, if
it so pleaseth you; but, I beseech you, save my poor
children !"
The rash emperor, misled by the false tales of the
prime minister, would not hearken to her; and the
courtiers, perceiving that nothing could mitigate his rage,
removed Bellisance from his presence.
Her faithful servant, Blandiman, now threw himself at
her feet, exclaiming, "Ah! madam, let me prevail on
you to quit this unhappy place, and suffer me to conduct
you and your children to your brother, the good King
Pepin. Innocent and noble lady, follow my counsel;
for if you stay here, the emperor will bring you to a
shameful death."
No, my faithful servant," replied she; "I cannot
follow your advice. If I should steal away privately
from the court, it might be said I had fled because I was
guilty. No; I had rather die the most cruel death than
bear the blame of that of which I am innocent."
The emperor so far relented, that he would not pro-
nounce sentence of execution upon his queen; yet, as his
mind was continually excited by false accusations against
her, he resolved to banish her from his dominions, and
immediately commanded her to quit Constantinople. At
the same time he published an edict, forbidding all per-


sons, on pain of death, to assist or succour the unfor-
tunate lady, allowing her no other attendant than her
servant Blandiman, whom she had brought with her from
France. Sentence being thus pronounced, the queen,
Blandiman, and the two children, hastened away. As
she passed through the city, she was met by multitudes
of people lamenting the loss of so good an empress.
When she had left Constantinople, "Alas!" cried she,
"in what unhappy hour was I born, to fall from so high
an estate to so low a, condition as I am now in!"
As she was thus complaining and weeping with an-
guish, her servant said to her, Madam, be not dis-
comforted, but trust in Providence, who will keep and
defend you."
Having thus spoken, he espied a fountain, towards
which he and his lady took their way. After refresh-
ing themselves at the fountain, they proceeded towards
France. Many weary days and nights had been tra-
.velled, when, arriving at the forest of Orleans, the discon-
solate princess was so overcome with grief and fatigue,
that she sunk down, and was incapable of proceeding
farther. Her faithful attendant gathered the fallen leaves
and the moss to make a couch for her to rest on, and
then hastened quickly away, to seek some habitation
where he might procure food and assistance for his
unfortunate mistress.
During Blandiman's absence the empress fell asleep


while her two infant boys were laid in the couch beside
her, when suddenly a huge bear rushed out, and, snatch-
ing up one of the children in its mouth, hastened into
the thickest part of the forest. The wretched mother,
distracted at the fate of her child, pursued the bear with
shrieks and lamentations, till, overcome with anguish and
terror, she fell into a swoon near the mouth of the cave
into which the bear had carried her child.
It happened that King Pepin, accompanied by several
great lords and barons of his court, was that same day
hunting in the forest of Orleans, and chanced to pass
near the tree where the other little boy lay sleeping on
its bed of moss. The king was astonished with the beauty
of the child, who opened his eyes as the king stood
gazing on him, and, smiling, stretched out its little arms,
as if to ask protection. See, my lords," said King
Pepin, "this lovely infant seems to solicit my favour.
Here is no one to claim it, and I will adopt it for
my own.
The king little imagined it was his nephew, the son of
his sister Bellisance, that he now delivered into the hands
of one of his pages, who took the babe to Orleans to be
nursed, and gave it, by the king's orders, the name of
Valentine, because it was found on St. Valentine's day.
Blandiman, who had now returned, after looking in
vain for assistance, missed' his mistress; and after search-
ing the forest for her, he at length espied her on the


ground, tearing her hair, and uttering piercing cries of
grief. Ah, Blandiman!" she exclaimed, can there
exist in the world a being more encompassed with grief
and sorrow ? I left Constantinople the mother of two
beautiful children, my only comfort under my bitter

I I '


sorrow. A ravenous bear has now snatched one from
my arms, and a no less cruel beast of prey has doubtless
devoured the other. At the foot of yonder tree I left it
; : : : . J ,' .' ,

sro .v o e.. has now .- snatche o f

...... ,, -' -----'-. .'_--i :'.-:-:- .L ..

my arms, and a no less cruel beast of prey has doubtless
devoured the other. At the foot of yonder tree I left it


when I pursued the bear; but no trace of either of my
children remains. Go, Blandiman, leave me here to
perish, and tell the emperor of Constantinople to what a
horrible fate he, by listening to evil counsel, has destined
his innocent wife and children."
At this moment they were interrupted by the sudden
appearance of a huge giant, who immediately attempted
to seize the empress. Blandiman sprung to his feet,
stepped in before him, and began to draw and defend
himself. His efforts, however, were unavailing : the giant
prevailed, and slew him; and throwing the unfortunate
lady over his shoulder, he proceeded towards his castle


MEANTIME the bear that had carried away the infaMl
bore it to its cave, and laid it down unhurt before her
young ones. The young bears, however, did not devour
it, but stroked it with their rough paws; and the old
bear, perceiving their kindness for the little babe, gave it
milk, and nourished it in this manner for the space of


a whole year. The child became hardy and robust; and
as he grew in strength he began to range the forest, and
attack the wild beasts with such fury that they used
to shun the cave where he continued to live with the old
bear, who loved him with extreme fondness. He passed
this kind of life during eighteen years; growing to such
wonderful strength, that he was the terror of the neigh-
bouring country. The name of Orson was given to him,
because he was nurtured by a bear; and the renown of
this wild man spread over all France. He could not
speak, and uttered no other sounds than a wild kind of
howl to express either his anger or his joy. King Pepin
often entertained a great desire to see this wilA man
of the woods; and one day rode with his retinue into
the forest of Orleans in hopes of meeting him. The king,
leaving his train at some distance, rode on, and passed
near the cave which Orson inhabited. On hearing the
sound of horses' feet, the wild man rushed upon the king,
and would have strangled him in an instant but for a
valiant knight, who galloped up and wounded Orsoi
with his sword. Orson then quitted the king, and, run-
ning furiously upon the knight, caught him and his horse
and overthrew both. The king, being quite unarmed,
could not assist the knight, but rode away to call the
attendants to his rescue. However, before they arrived
on the spot, the unfortunate knight was torn to pieces,
and Orson had fled to the thickest part of the forest,


where all their endeavours could not discover him. The
noise of this adventure increased every one's terror of the
wild man, and the neighboring villages were nearly
abandoned by their inhabitants.
Valentine, in the mean while, had been educated in all
kinds of accomplishments with the king's two sons and
his fair daughter, Eglantine. Nothing could exceed the
fondness of the young people for each other; indeed, there
never was a lovelier princess than Eglantine, or a more
brave and accomplished youth than Valentine. The king
observing his inclination for arms, indulged him with
armour and horses, and after creating him knight gave
him a command in his army that was about to march
against the Saracens. Valentine soon distinguished him-
self above the other leaders in battle. He fought near
the king's side; and when his majesty was taken by a
troop of the pagans, Valentine rushed through their
ranks, slew hundreds of them, and, replacing the king
on his horse, led him off in triumph. Afterwards, when
the Saracen city was besieged, he was the first to scale
the walls and place the Christian standard on the battle-
ments. By his means a complete victory was obtained,
and peace restored to France.
Valentine having conquered the Saracens returned to
the court of King Pepin, and was received with loud
acclamations by the people, and joyfully welcomed by
the Princess Eglantine. The distinctions and favour


showered on him raised the envy and hatred of the
king's sons, who plotted together to destroy Valentine.
It happened very shortly after the return of Valen-
tine from his victory over the Saracens, that a petition
was presented to the king by a deputation of peasants,
praying relief against Orson, the wild man of the woods;
the fear of whom was now become so great that the
peasants dared not go out to till their fields, nor the
shepherds to watch their flocks. The king immedi-
ately issued a proclamation, saying, if any man would
undertake to bring Orson dead or alive to the city, he
should receive a thousand marks of gold.
Sire," said his sons, "we think no person is so proper
to undertake this enterprise as the foundling Valentine,
on whom your majesty lavishes such great favours, and
who, it seems, aspires to the hand of your daughter.
Perhaps if he conquers the savage with his sword, you
will not think it then too much to reward him with the
hand of our sister Eglantine."
Valentine saw through the malicious design of the
king's sons; and the king himself wished to protect him,
and advised him not to encounter such an enemy.
"Pardon me, my liege," replied Valentine; "it con-
cerns my honour that I go. I will encounter this
danger, and every other, rather than not prove myself
worthy of yourmajesty's favour and protection. To-
morrow I will depart for the forest at break of day."


When the Princess Eglantine heard of Valentine's
determination, she sought to divert him from his piur-
pose; but finding him inflexibly resolved to attack the
wild man, she adorned him with a scarf, embroidered
with her own hands, and then retired to her chamber to
pray for his safety.
At the first dawn of morning Valentine arose, and
putting on his armour, having his shield polished like a
mirror, he departed for the forest; and having arrived
there, he alighted, and tying his horse to a tree, pene-
trated into the thickest part of the wood in search of
Orson. He wandered about a long time in vain; and
being come near the mouth of a large cave, he thought
that might be the hiding-place of the wild man. Valen-
tine then climbed a high tree near the cave; and
scarcely was he seated among the branches, when he
heard Orson's roar in the forest. Orson had been
hunting, and came with a sift pace, bearing a buck
he had killed upon his shoulder%. Valentine could not
help admiring the beauty of his person, the grace and
freedom of his motions, and his 'appearance of strength
and agility. He felt a species of a fl ion for the wild
man, and wished it were f l:,-I;ble to.' t.:-, him without
having recourse to weapons. ;Val :.-utine'-'now tre off a
branch of the tree, and threw it at Orson's feetj who
looking up, and espying Valentine in the tree, uttered
a growl of fury, and darted up the tree like lightning.


Valentine as quickly descended on the other side. Orson
seeing him on the ground leaped
-. down, and opening his arms, pre-
.:' I' ii pared in his usual manner to rush
upon and overthrow his antago-
Snist; but Valentine holding up the
*i olished steel, Orson suddenly be-
held, instead of the person he meant
l' '." :- to seize, his own wild and terror-

4 I '. < i "

-'- 267 s:5;,1 f^*
"^ .''i'" '.'" '
-. ..... '- .

.' .-' ""

". .67-


striking figure. Upon Valentine's lowering the shield,
he again saw his enemy, and with a cry of transport
prepared to grasp him in his arms. The strength of
Orson was so very great, that Valentine was unable to
defend himself without having recourse to his sword.
When Orson received a wound from his sword, he uttered
loud shrieks of anger and surprise, and instantly tearing
up by the roots a large tree, furiously attacked Valen-
tine. A dreadful fight now ensued, and the victory was a
long time doubtful, Orson receiving many dreadful wounds
from the sword of Valentine, and Valentine with great
difficulty escaping from being crushed to death beneath
the weighty club of Orson. At last Valentine's skill
prevailed, and the wild man was conquered, and lay
prostrate on the ground at his feet.
Valentine now made signs to Orson that he wished
him to accompany him, on which he quietly suffered him
to bind his hands; and Valentine having mounted his
horse, the two brothers proceeded towards Orleans.




WHEREVER they passed, the people, perceiving the wild
man, ran into their houses and hid themselves.. On
arriving at an inn where Valentine intended resting
during the night, the terrified inhabitants fastened their
doors, and would not suffer them to enter. Valentine
made signs to Orson, who, placing his shoulder against
the door, forced it open in an instant; upon which the
people of the inn all ran out at the back-door, and would
not venture to return. A great feast was in preparation,
and there were plenty of fowls and good provisions
roasting at the fire. Orson tore the meat off the spit
with his hands, and devoured it greedily; and espying a
cauldron of water, he put his head into it and drank like
a horse.
In the morning, Valentine resumed his journey, leading
Orson as before. On arriving at the city, the inhabitants
shut their doors, and ran into the highest rooms to gaze
upon the wild man. Being. come to the outer court of
King Pepin's palace, the porter in a great fright barred
the gate with heavy chains and bars of iron, and would
not be prevailed upon to open it. After soliciting
admittance for some time, and being still denied, Valen-
tine made a sign to Orson, who, tearing up one of the


large stone-posts that stood by, shattered the gate to
pieces. The queen, the Princess Eglantine, and all their
attendants, fled to hide themselves when they heard that
Orson was arrived; and Valentine had the greatest diffi-
culty to persuade them to believe that Orson was no
longer furious and savage as he had been in the woods.
At length the king permitted him to be brought in; and
the whole court soon gathered in a crowd in the apart-
ment, and were much amused by his wild actions and
gestures, although very cautious not to come near him.
On Valentine's making signs, he kissed the king's robe,
and the hand of the Princess Eglantine; for Orson had
now become so attached to Valentine that he would obey
him in all things, and would suffer no other person
to attempt to control him. If Valentine went for a
moment out of his sight, he would utter cries of dis-
tress, and overturn every one that stood in his way,
while he ran about the palace in search of him; and
he slept at night in Valentine's chamber, on the floor,
for he could not be prevailed to lie on a bed.
Very soon after the capture of Orson, a herald ap-
peared at the court of King Pepin, from the Duke of
Aquitain, summoning all true knights to avenge the
cause of the Lady Clerimont, daughter to the noble duke,
who was held in cruel captivity by Atramont,- the black
knight: the herald proclaiming, that whoever should
conquer him should receive the hand of the lady in


marriage, together with a princely dowry. This knight
was so famous for his cruelty and his victories, that
the young lords of the court all drew back, and were
unwilling to enter the lists; for it was known that he
was defended by enchantment; and it was his practice
to hang upon a high tree all the knights whom he had
defeated. Valentine, however, offered himself without
hesitation; and though he did not intend to ask the
lady in marriage, he nevertheless determined to attempt
her rescue from the hands of the giant.
Valentine, followed by Orson as his squire, soon
reached the castle of the black knight, and immediately
demanded the freedom of the captive lady. This was
refused, and the two knights at once began the combat.
The fight was long and equal. At length Atramont
demanded a parley: "Knight," said he to Valentine,
"thou art brave and noble; behold, yonder hang twenty
knights whom I have subdued and executed: such will
be t y fate; I give thee warning."
"Base traitor," replied Valentine, "I fear thee not;
come on-I defy thee."
"First," rejoined the black knight, "fetch me yonder
shield; for in pity to thy youth, I tell thee, unless thou
canst remove that shield, thou never canst rescue the
lady, or conquer me."
Valentine approached the shield; but, in spite of all
his efforts, he could not loosen it from the tree, though


it appeared to hang but on a slender branch. Valentine,
breathless with his exertions to pull down the shield,
stood leaning against the tree, when Atramont, with
a loud laugh, exclaimed, "Fly and save thyself, fair
knight; for since thou canst not move the shield, thou
art not destined to be my victor. Further, know there
is no one living who can subdue me, unless he be the son
of a mighty king, and yet has been suckled by a wild
Valentine started on hearing these last words, and
immediately ran to Orson, and led him to the enchanted
shield. On Orson's raising his arm towards it, it dropped
instantly from its place. A loud blast of wind rushed
through the trees, the ground rocked beneath their feet,
and the black knight trembled and turned pale; then
gnashing his teeth he seized his sword, and attacked
Orson with desperate fury. At the first blow, Atramont's
sword broke in pieces upon the enchanted shield. Next
he caught up a battle-axe, which also snapped instantly
in two. He then took a lance, which was shivered to
Satoms in the same manner. Furious with these defeats,
he threw aside his weapons, and trusting to his great
strength, attempted to grasp Orson in his arms: but
Orson, seizing him as if he had been a mere child, dashed
him on the ground, and would have instantly destroyed
him, had not Valentine interposed to save his life. Orson
continued to hold him down till some chains were


brought, when, in despite of the furious struggles of the
black knight, Orson bound him in strong fetters, to lead
him away a prisoner.
Atramont, finding himself conquered, addressed him-
self to Valentine, and said, "This savage man is my
conqueror, and there is some mystery in his fate. Hasten
to the castle of the giant Ferragus, where, if you can
conquer him, you will find a brazen head, kept by a
dwarf, that will explain to you who this savage is. You
will also be able to set at liberty all the captives whom
he keeps confined in his dungeons."
He then directed them on their way to the giant's
castle; and after they had rested and refreshed them-
selves, they took their departure.

*' ". . -- V ---_ -- : -


TH EY had to pass over many a hill
-'i".l valley, and through wild un-
fut : uented forests; at last they came
in view of the giant's castle, to
vw ii.:h the entrance was by a bridge
of 1 irass. The building itself was of
marble, and the battlements were


surmounted by golden pinnacles, which glittered richly in
the evening sun as the two brothers approached the
castle. Beneath the bridge of brass a hundred bells were
fastened by a strange device, so that neither man nor
beast might pass over without a loud alarm being given.
The moment the two travellers began to cross the bridge
the bells sounded, and immediately the great gates of the
castle were thrown open, and a huge giant stalked forth,
bearing in his hand a knotted club of steel. He imme-
diately summoned them in a voice of thunder to lay down
their arms.
"Yield, you caitiffs!" said he, "or I will make you
food for the wolves and birds of prey. No. one comes
here and escapes with his life as long as I can wield my
good club."
"Vain boaster," replied Valentine, "I scorn you and
your threats. I come determined to force the brazen
gates of your castle and to set free your prisoners."
With these words he put spurs to his steed, and aimed
his -trusty spear at the giant's head. The first thrust
made the giant bleed, who, in his turn, aimed a desperate
blow at the knight. This happily missed, and left Valen-
tine an opportunity of attacking the giant with his sword,
which he did with the greatest courage, aiming blow
after blow, first on one side, then on another, with the
utmost agility and skill. But at last the giant, mad with
pain and rage, saw that his adversary was beginning to


flag, and found opportunity to deal him a tremendous
blow with his mace, which laid both horse and rider
senseless on the ground. He now grinned a hideous
grin, and, stooping down, he was about to aim a second
blow, exclaiming, "Now, caitiff, breathe thy last." But
before he could raise his arm to strike, two tremendous
blows descended upon his own head, and the monster fell
groaning to the earth. These blows came from the
knotty club of Orson, who, seeing his friend's danger,
ran up just in time to save him. The giant was dead;
and Valentine soon began, with Orson's care and atten-
tion, to recover.
They now began to search the giant's castle, both to
set free his captives and to search for the dwarf who
should give the promised explanation. As tiey went
through the gloomy apartments and dungeons, they
found the bones of many murdered knights who had
been overcome by the giant, and at last, in a little dim
cell lighted by one small window, they found a lady
lying on the ground and bathed in tears. At their
entrance she lifted up her eyes and begged for mercy.
Valentine gently raised her, and assured her that they
were come to succour her, that the giant was killed, and
that the castle-gates were thrown open. They then led
her out of the dungeon into one of the apartments of the
castle, and supplied her with food and wine, and attended
to all her wants.


They then inquired her name and her story, when she
related to them her whole history, as it has been already
told, from the time of her marriage to the hour when the
fierce giant slew her trusty attendant, and carried her off
by force to the castle. But, when they heard her name,
and that she was sister to King Pepin, they were beyond
measure amazed and overjoyed; for they had often heard
the sad story of the Empress of Constantinople, and how
the emperor, after she had gone, had discovered the
treachery of his prime minister, and had made long and
anxious search for his wife and children, but in vain.

4- i
I- I'L' '' ,,' i' '' ,',--

r I
O ,:,1 .
-"- ..V:
; -Z -_' U' :: k'. '. !"




VALENTINE and Orson determined therefore to set out
for the coast of France as soon as the Lady Bellisance
was able to travel, knowing how overjoyed the old king
would be to see his long-lost sister. But, before taking
their departure, they went to search for the dwarf, who
at last was found in one of the turrets of the castle, and
who immediately expressed his willingness to serve his
deliverer, now that his cruel master was dead.
They desired him to lead them to the chamber where
the brazen head was kept, which he immediately did.
Valentine fixed his eyes upon the head, anxious to hear
what it would say concerning his birth. At length it
spake thus: Thou, 0 renowned knight, art called Valen-
tine the Brave, and art the man destined to be the hus-
band of the Princess Eglantine of France. Thou art son
to the Emperor of Greece, and thy mother is Bellisance,
sister to King Pepin of France. She was unjustly
banished from her throne, and, after many wanderings,
she; was seized by a giant and confined in a dungeon of
this castle, where she has been for twenty years. The


wild man, who hath so long accompanied thee, is thy
brother. You were both lost in the forest of Orleans.
Thou wert found and brought up under the care of King
Pepin thy uncle, but thy brother was stolen and nurtured
by a bear. Proceed to France with the innocent empress
thy hapless mother. Away, and prosper These are the
last words I shall utter. Fate has decreed, that when
Valentine and Orson enter this chamber, my power
ends." o
Having thus spoken, the brazen head fell from its
pedestal, and in the fall was broken into a thousand
The two youths stood for a moment fixed with as-
tonishment; they then joyfully embraced each other,
and rejoined the empress to tell her the extraordinary
news they had just heard. Imagine her surprise when
she saw before her her two long-lost sons. To describe
her emotions on this joyful occasion would be impos-
After the first transports were over, they prepared for
their departure. The stables of the giant's castle fur-
nished them with horses; and everything else necessary
for their journey was found in its well-stored recesses.
So, taking with them the dwarf as their servant, the
whole party proceeded towards France.
The meeting of King Pepin and his dear sister was,
we need not say, a happy and joyful one. A courier was

immediately despatched to Constantinople to inform the
Emperor Alexander of the arrival of his empress at the
capital of France. The messenger found him still mourn-
ing the loss of his innocent queen, and refusing all com-
fort from those around him, from the thought that by
his own folly and rashness he had been the cause of her

II II t;r~;

,-.- i ~

2V: .-i

IB ~t;~I

Ii '
II (


  • banishment and death. The news was like life to the
    dead; and the emperor, as soon as he had sufficiently
    collected himself to give the proper orders, set off with

    his whole court to meet his long-lost queen, and to bring
    her back in triumph to her throne. His delight was still
    further increased when he saw the two youths his sons,
    and embraced them for the first time since they were
    Great rejoicings, feasts, dances, and tournaments were
    held in honour of these events in all parts of the French
    king's dominions; and, in due time, the emperor and his
    queen, accompanied by Orson, took their departure for
    their own country. Valentine remained at the court of
    his uncle, and was shortly after married to the fair Princess
    At the death of the monarch they succeeded to the
    empire, and were blessed with a long and prosperous


    r .L .;_



    - -

    A MERCHANT once upon a time,
    who had great store of gold,
    Among his household placed a youth
    sore pinch'd by want and cold;
    No father and no mother watch'd
    with love o'er this poor boy,
    Whose dearest treasure was a cat,
    his pet and only joy,
    That came to him beseechingly
    when death was at the door,
    -And kindly to relieve her wants
    he shared his little store.


    A grateful cat! no mice might live
    where she put up to dwell,
    And Whittington could sweetly sleep
    while puss watch'd o'er his cell,
    That once o'erran with vermin so,
    no rest had he by night,
    Placed in this garret vile to please
    a vulgar menial's spite.
    Now by the strand a gallant ship
    lay ready to set sail,
    When spoke the merchant, Ho! prepare
    to catch the fav'ring gale;
    And each who will his fortune try,
    haste, get your goods on board,
    The gains ye all shall share with me,
    whatever they may afford;
    From distant lands where precious musks
    and jewels rare are found,
    What joy to waft across the seas
    their spoils to English ground!"
    So hasted then each one on board,
    with what he best could find,
    Before the ship for Afric's strand
    flew swiftly with the wind.
    The little boy he was so poor,
    no goods had he to try,
    And as he stood and saw the ship,
    a tear bedimm'd his eye,


    To think how fortune smiled on all
    except on his sad lot-
    As if he were by gracious Heaven
    neglected and forgot!
    The merchant and his daughter too,
    fair Alice, mark'd his grief,
    And with a gentle woman's heart,
    intent on kind relief,
    She bade him bring his cat to try
    her fortune o'er the sea;
    "Who knows," she said, "what she may catch
    in gratitude to thee!"
    With weeping and with sore lament
    he brought poor puss on board.
    And now the ship stood out for sea,
    with England's produce stored;
    And as she sped fir out of sight,
    his heart was like to break;
    His friend was gone that shared his crust,
    far sweeter for her sake.
    Humble his lot the merchant knew,
    but knew not that the cook
    With blows and cuffs the boy assailed,
    and surly word and look,
    Until his life a burden seem'd,
    too grievous to be borne,
    Though Alice oft would pity him,
    so lowly and forlorn.


    Now musing long, the thought arose
    his plight could scarce be worse,
    And forth he rush'd into the fields,
    regardless of his course.
    The cutting winds blew bleak and cold
    upon his shiv'ring breast,
    His naked feet were pierced with thorns,
    on every side distress'd;
    He sank, o'crpower'd with grief and pain,
    upon a wayside stone,
    Bethinking there to end his days,
    with none to make him moan:
    And calling upon God for aid
    in this last hour of need-
    On God, who never yet refused
    to hear the wretched plead.
    And now the bells sound loud and clear,
    as thus he lay forlorn,
    Seeming to say, "0 Whittington,
    thou foolish boy, return!
    Lord Mayor of London thou shalt be,
    Dick Whittington, if thou
    Wilt turn again, and meet thy lot
    with bold and manly brow." *

    SThe six bells of Bow Church rung, and seemed to say to him,-
    "Turn again, Whittington, Lord Mayor of London;
    Turn again, Whittington, Lord Mayor of London."


    Up sprang the boy to hear such sounds,
    so cheerful and so sweet,
    He felt no more the piercing winds,
    the thorns beneath his feet,
    But raising up his eyes to Heaven,
    he pray'd for strength to bear
    Whatever in His wisdom God
    might please to make him share.
    And now his steps retracing fast,
    good news he quickly hears,
    How that a richly laden ship,
    amid ten thousand cheers,
    Had enter'd port from distant climes
    full freighted with their gold,
    By traffic gain'd for English wares
    in honest barter sold.
    With shout and song the crew rejoiced--
    not less the folk on shore-
    Told of adventures strange and rare
    among the blackamoor;
    And how their king was glad to see
    our English sailors bold,
    Who sat and ate and drank with him
    from cups of purest gold.
    Once on a day, amid their cheer,
    when health went gaily round,
    How were the crew amazed to see,
    in swarms upon the ground,


    Unnumber'd rats and mice rush forth
    and seize the goodly cheer,
    While stood the wondering guests aloof,
    o'erwhelm'd with dread and fear.
    "Oh!" said the king, "what sums I'd giv
    to rid me of such vile
    Detested brutes, whose ravages
    our bed and board defile !"
    Now hearing this, the sailors straight
    bethought them of the cat,
    And said, "0 king, we'll quickly rid
    your palace of each rat."
    "Indeed !" the king delighted said;
    go fetch her, quick as thought,
    For such a treasure, many a year,.
    I've long and vainly sought;
    And should she prove as ye have said,
    your ship shall loaded be
    With gold in heaps, so rich a prize
    I deem your cat to be."
    And now the cat did soon perform
    such feats as ne'er were seen:
    Oh, how the scampering, mangled rats
    amused the king and queen!
    Rich treasures now for Whittington
    were sent on board the ship,
    That laden with a golden freight
    did let her cables slip,


    And stood for England, while the breeze
    a fav'ring impulse lent,
    As if for sake of Whittington
    both ship and breeze were sent.
    And soon again the bells rang forth
    a loud and merry strain,
    For wealth and honours crowded now
    on Whittington amain:
    With gentle Alice for his bride
    he stands before the priest,

    j Iii
    l N,, ., 1._
    A-] (i I.-

    And after holy rites and vows
    come t w-** dn ,e

    comes next the wedding feast...
    289 :19


    The poor were feasted well, I ween,
    y on that auspicious day,
    And never from his door did go
    the poor uncheer'd away.
    "Lord Mayor of London," spoke the bells,
    -they spoke both well and true:
    And still the stone is pointed out
    unto the traveller's view
    Where Whittington in prayer to God
    cast all his fears aside,
    And rose and braced him for the strife,
    whatever might betide.


    IN the reign of the famous King Edward the Third,
    ther3 lived in a village, a great distance from London, a
    little boy called Dick Whittington. He was born in the
    year 1360; but his father and mother died when he was
    very young, so that he remembered nothing of them, and
    he was left a poor ragged boy, running about from village
    to village.
    Dick, however, was a sharp boy, and was always
    asking questions, or listening when he heard persons
    conversing. Once a week you might see young Whit-
    tington leaning against the sign-post of the village tavern,
    where people stopped as they came from the market; and
    whenever the barber's shop was open, Dick listened to all
    thel news he told his customers. In this manner Dick
    heard of the great city of London; and from what he
    heard, he imagined -that all who lived there were great
    and rich people, and that the very streets were paved
    with gold.
    One day, a waggon, with eight horses, and bells at
    their heads, drove through the village, while Dick was
    leaning against the sign-post. The thought immediately


    struck him that it must be going to London; so he took
    courage, and asked the waggoner to let him walk with
    him by the side of the waggon. The man finding that
    the poor boy had no parents, and seeing by his ragged
    clothes that he could not be worse off than he was, told
    him he might go with him if he pleased: so they set off
    How Dick got on, on his long journey, history does
    not tell us; but he got safe to London; and so eager was
    he to see the fine streets and the gold, that, thanking
    his friend the waggoner, he ran off as fast as his legs
    could carry him, through several streets, expecting every
    moment to come to those that were paved with gold;
    for Dick had sometimes seen a gold piece in his own
    village, and observed what a great deal it brought in
    exchange; so he fancied he had only to take up some
    little bits of the pavement, to have as many fine things
    as he could desire.
    Poor Dick ran till he was tired; at last, finding it
    grow dark, and that whichever way he turned, he found
    nothing but stones and dirt, instead of gold, he sat down
    in a dark corner, and cried himself to sleep.
    Dick remained all night in the streets; and next
    morning finding himself very hungry, he got up and
    walked about, asking those he met to bestow something
    upon him to keep him from starving; but nobody stayed
    to answer him, so that the poor boy was almost dead
    with hunger.


    At length, a good-natured-looking gentleman observed
    his hungry looks. "Why don't you go to work, my
    lad?" said he to Whittington.
    That I would," replied the boy, "but I do not know
    where to get any."
    "If you are willing," said the gentleman, "come along
    with me;" and so saying, he took him to a hay-field,
    where Dick worked briskly, and lived merrily, till the
    hay was all made.
    He now found himself again in the same condition;
    and being almost starved, he laid himself down at the
    door of one Mr. Fitzwarren, a great rich merchant.
    Here he was soon perceived by the cook-maid, who was
    an ill-tempered creature, and happened just then to be
    very busy dressing dinner for her master and mistress;
    so seeing poor Dick, she called out : What business have
    you there, you lazy rogue? If you do not get away, we
    will see how you will like a sousing with some dish-water
    I have here, which is hot enough to make you jump."
    Just at this moment, Mr. Fitzwarren himself came
    home to dinner, and seeing a poor ragged boy lying at his
    door, said to him: "Why do you lie there, my lad ? You
    seem old enough to work ; I fear you are an idle boy."
    "No, indeed, sir," said Whittington, "that is not true,
    for I would work with all my heart; but I know nobody,
    and I am very sick for want of food."
    "Poor fellow !" answered Mr. Fitzwarren ; "prythee
    get up, and let us see what ails thee."


    Dick now tried to rise, but was obliged to lie down
    again, being too weak to stand; for he had not eaten
    anything for a long time, and was no longer able to run
    about and beg of people in the streets; so the kind
    merchant ordered that he should be taken into the house,
    and have a good dinner immediately, and that he should
    be kept to do what kitchen or scullery work he was able
    for the cook.
    Little Dick would have lived very happily in his place,
    had it not been for the crabbed cook, who found fault
    with him, and scolded him from morning till night; and
    was, as the old story says, withal so fond of basting, that,
    when she had no roast to baste, she would be basting
    poor Dick's head and shoulders.
    But though the cook was ill-tempered, Mr. Fitzwarren's
    footman was just the contrary; he had lived in the family
    many years, and once had a little son of his own, who
    died when he was about the age of Dick; so he could
    not help having a liking for the boy. This footman, too,
    was a very good reader; and he used often to entertain
    his fellow-servants, when they had done their work, with
    some amusing book. The pleasure Whittington took in
    hearing him, made him wish very much to learn to read
    too; and with a little of this good man's help, and the
    use of his book, Dick soon learned.
    About this time, his master's daughter was going out
    one morning to pay a visit to a neighbour; and the
    footman being unwell, little Dick was ordered to put on


    his new clothes (for his master had just given him a suit
    as a reward for his good behaviour), and to walk behind
    her. As they walked along, Miss Alice, seeing a poor
    woman with one child in her arms, and another at her
    back, pulled out her purse, and gave her some money;
    and, as she was putting it again into her pocket, she
    dropped it on the ground, and walked on. Luckily,
    Dick, who was behind, saw what she had done, picked it
    up, and, like an honest boy, immediately gave the purse
    to his mistress.
    Another time, as Miss Alice was sitting at an open
    window, amusing herself with her parrot, it suddenly
    flew away, and lighted upon a branch of a high tree,
    where all the servants were afraid to venture after it.
    As soon as Dick heard of this, he pulled off his jacket,
    and climbed up the tree as nimbly as a squirrel; and,
    after a great deal of trouble,-for Poll hopped about
    from branch to branch,-he caught her, and brought her
    down in safety to his mistress. Miss Alice was much
    pleased, and praised him for his cleverness.
    Besides the ill-treatment of the cook, Whittington had
    another hardship to endure. His bed was placed in a
    garret, where there were so many holes in the floor and
    walls, that he was awakened in his sleep every night by
    great numbers of rats and mice, which often ran over his
    face, and made such a noise, that he sometimes thought
    the walls were tumbling about him.
    One day, a gentleman, who paid a visit to Mr. Fitz-


    warren, happened to have dirtied his boots, and begged
    they might be cleaned. Dick took great pains to make
    them look well, and the gentleman gave him a silver
    penny. With this he determined to buy a cat; and the
    next day, seeing a little girl with one under her arm, he
    went up to her, and asked if she would let him have it
    for a penny; to which the girl agreed, adding, that her
    mother had more at home than she could keep.
    Whittington took the cat to his garret, and always
    carried her a part of his own dinner; and thus, in a
    short time, he had no further disturbance from the rats
    and mice, but slept as soundly as he could wish.
    Soon after this, Mr. Fitzwarren had a ship ready to
    sail, richly laden; and thinking it right that his servants
    should have some chance of good fortune as well as him-
    self, he called them into the hall, and asked them what
    they chose to send.
    They all had something to venture but poor Whittington,
    who, having neither money nor goods, could send nothing
    at all, for which reason he did not come in with the rest;
    but Miss Alice guessed what was the matter, and ordered
    him to be called in. The merchant then asked him what
    he wished to send. Upon which poor Dick answered,
    that he had nothing but a cat, which he bought with a
    penny that had been given him.
    "Fetch the cat, then, boy," said Mr. Fitzwarren, and
    let her go."
    Whittington went up-stairs and brought down poor


    puss, and gave her to the captain, with tears in his eyes;
    for he thought he should now again be kept awake all
    night by the rats and mice, as he had so often been
    before he had her.
    All the company laughed at Whittington's strange
    venture; but Miss Alice, who felt the greatest pity for
    the poor boy, gave him a penny to buy another cat with;
    and she lent him her Psalter to read, whenever he had
    leisure, which was now more frequently the case; for
    Miss Alice had obtained her father's permission to have
    Dick to attend upon her as her own page or servant.
    This, and several other marks of kindness shown him
    by Miss Alice, made the ill-tempered cook so jealous of
    the favours poor Dick received, that she began to use
    him more cruelly than ever, and constantly made game
    of him for sending his cat to sea, asking him, if he
    thought it would sell for as much money as would buy
    a stick to beat him with.
    At last Whittington, unable to bear this treatment any
    longer, determined to leave the house; he accordingly
    packed up his few things, and set out very early in the
    morning of All-hallows day, which is the 1st of Novem-
    ber. He walked as far as Holloway, and there he sat
    clown on a stone, which to this day is called Whittington's
    Stone, and began to consider what road he should take.
    While he was thus thinking what he should do, Bow-
    bells, of which there were then six, began to ring; and he
    fancied that their sounds addressed him in these words:


    "Turn again, Whittington,
    Thrice Lord-Mayor of London."

    This idea made such an impression upon his mind,
    that he exclaimed, "Lord-mayor of London! why, to be
    sure I would bear anything to be Lord-mayor of London!
    Well, I will go back, and think nothing of all the cuffing
    and scolding of the old cook, if I am to be Lord-mayor
    of London in the end." So Dick went back; and was
    fortunate enough to get into the house and set about his
    work before the cook came down stairs.
    The ship with Whittington's cat on board was long at
    sea, and was at last driven by contrary winds on a part
    of the coast of Barbary, inhabited by Moors, who were
    then almost unknown to the English.
    The people of this country came in great numbers, out
    of curiosity, to see the people on board ship,-who were
    all of so different a colour from themselves,-and treated
    them with great civility; and as they became better
    acquainted, they showed great desire to purchase the fine
    silks, and other things, with which the ship was laden.
    The captain, seeing this, sent patterns of all his choicest
    articles to the king of the country; who was so pleased
    with them, that he sent for the captain and his chief
    mate to the palace. Here they were seated, as is the
    custom of the country, on rich carpets; and the king
    and queen sitting at the upper end of the room. Dinner
    was brought in, which consisted of a great many of the


    rarest dishes; but before they had been set on the table
    a minute, an amazing number of rats and mice rushed
    in, and helped themselves plentifully from every dish,
    scattering the meat and gravy all about the room. The
    captain wondered very much at this, and asked the king's
    servants if these vermin were not very troublesome.
    "Oh, yes," they said, "and the king would give half
    his treasures to be rid of them : for they not only often
    destroy his dinner, as you see, but they even disturb-him
    in his sleep; and he is obliged to be guarded, for fear of
    The captain, who was overjoyed when he remembered
    poor Whittington's hard case, and the cat he had entrusted
    to his care, told them he had a creature on board the ship
    that would destroy them all.
    The king was still more overjoyed than the captain.
    "Bring this creature to me," said he; "and if she can
    really do as you say, I will load your ship with pieces of
    gold in exchange for her."
    The captain, to make quite sure of his good luck,
    observed that she was a cat of such uncommon skill in
    catching rats and mice, that he could hardly bear to part
    with her; but added, that, to oblige his majesty, he would
    fetch her.
    Run," said the queen, "for I am impatient to see the
    creature that will do us so great a service."
    The captain proceeded to the ship, while another dinner
    was getting ready; and taking the cat under his arm, he


    returned to the palace, where he saw the table covered
    with rats and mice, as before.
    The cat, at the sight of them, did not wait for a bid-
    ding; but, springing from the captain's arm, in a few
    moments laid a great part of the rats and mice dead at
    her feet: while the rest, with the greatest haste possible,
    scampered away to their holes.
    The king and queen were delighted to get rid of their
    enemies so easily, and desired that the creature who had
    done them such a service might be brought for them to
    look at.
    Accordingly, the captain called out "Puss, puss," and
    the cat went up to him and jumped on his knee; he then
    presented her to the queen, who started, back, and was
    afraid to touch a creature who was able to kill so many
    rats and mice; but when she saw how gentle she looked,
    and how pleased she was to be stroked, she ventured to
    touch her too.
    The king, having seen and considered the wonderful
    exploits of the cat, bargained with the captain for the
    greater part of his cargo, and afterwards gave as many
    wedges of gold as the ship could carry for the cat, as he
    at first promised; with which, after taking ]cave of their
    majesties and their court, the captain set sail with a fair
    wind for England, and, after a happy voyage, arrived
    safely in the port of London.
    One morning, Mr. Fitzwarren had just entered his
    counting-house, when somebody knocked at the door.


    "Who is there ?" said Mr. Fitzwarren. "A friend,"
    was the answer; and on opening the door, who should
    it be but the captain and first mate of the ship, which
    had just arrived from the coast of Barbary, followed by
    several men, bringing with them a prodigious quantity of
    solid lumps of gold, which had been paid by the king of
    Barbary in exchange for the cargo.
    They then related the adventures of the cat, and pro-
    duced the rich present the king had sent to Whittington
    in exchange for her; upon which the merchant called
    out to fetch Dick immediately, that he might tell him
    of his good fortune. Some of his clerks said, so great a
    treasure was too much for such a boy as Whittington;
    but he replied, "God forbid that I should keep back the
    value of a single penny It is all his own, and he shall
    have every farthing's worth of it for himself."
    He then sent for Whittington, who at that time hap-
    pened to be cleaning the harness of his young mistress's
    palfrey, and very dirty, so that he wished to excuse himself.
    Mr. Fitzwarren, however, made him come in, and
    ordered a chair to be set for him; so that poor Dick
    thinking they were making sport of him, as they too
    often did in the kitchen, began to beg his master to let
    him go down to work again.
    "Indeed, Mr. Whittington," said the merchant, "we
    are all quite in earnest; and most heartily do I rejoice
    in the news these gentlemen have brought you, for the
    captain has sold your cat to the king of Barbary, and

    brought you great riches in return; and may you long
    Enjoy them."
    Mr. Fitzwarren then desired the men to open the
    treasures they had brought, and added, that Mr. Whit-
    tington had now nothing to do but to put them in some
    place of safety.
    Poor Dick scarcely knew how to behave himself for joy;
    he begged his master to take what part of it he pleased,
    since to his kindness he was indebted for the whole.
    "No, no; this wealth is all your own, and justly so,"
    answered Mr. Fitzwarren; "and I have no doubt you
    will use it well."
    Whittington next entreated Miss Alice to accept a part
    of his good fortune; but this she refused, at the same
    time assuring him of the joy she felt at his good success.
    But the poor fellow was too kind-hearted to keep all
    himself, and accordingly made a handsome present to the
    captain, the mate, and every one of the ship's company,
    and afterwards to his good friend the footman, and the
    rest of Mr. Fitzwarren's servants, not even excepting the
    old ill-tempered cook.
    After this, Mr. Fitzwarren advised him to send for the
    proper tradesmen, and get himself dressed as became a
    gentleman, and made him the offer of his house to live
    in till he could provide himself with a better.
    When Whittington's hair was curled, his hat feathered,
    and he was dressed in a suit of gentleman's clothes, he
    appeared as handsome and genteel as any young man who


    visited at Mr. Fitzwarren's; so that Miss Alice, who had
    formerly looked upon him with compassion, now consi-
    dered him as fit to be her companion, and soon after-
    wards her suitor, and the more so, no doubt, because Mr. g
    Whittington was constantly thinking what he could do
    to oblige her, and making her the prettiest prgents
    He sent a sum of money to the poor people in the vil-
    lage where he was born; and he caused the good-natured
    waggoner who brought him to town to be inquired for,
    and made him a handsome present. After showing his
    gratitude to every one from whom he had received the
    least kindness, he entered into partnership with his
    worthy master, and pursued the business of a merchant
    with the utmost attention and success.
    At the end of three years Mr. Fitzwarren, perceiving
    the affection of Mr. Whittington and his daughter for
    each other, consented to unite them in marriage; and ac-
    cordingly a day for the wedding was soon fixed, and they
    were attended to church by the lord-mayor, the aldermen,
    the sheriffs, and a great number of the wealthiest mer-
    chants in London. There was a grand entertainment after-
    wards, at which the poor were feasted as well as the rich.
    History tells us that Whittington and his lady lived in
    great splendour, and were very happy; that they had
    several children; that he was sheriff of London, and
    three times afterwards lord-mayor; that in the last year
    of his mayoralty he entertained King Henry the Fifth, on


    his return from the battle of Agincourt; upon which.
    occasion, the king, in consideration of Whittington's gal-
    < lantry, knighted him by the style and title of Sir Richard
    "Sir Richard Whittington constantly fed great numbers
    of the poor: he built a church, and added a college to it,
    with lodgings, and a yearly allowance to thirteen poor
    scholars. He also erected a great part of St. Bartho-
    lomew's hospital in Smithfield.
    History has not told us what became of the property
    left by him for the support of the church and the thirteen
    poor scholars; but it is believed it was seized by King
    Henry VIII. at the time of the Reformation, as that
    uing seized upon many of the lands which were left for
    Religious purposes; but those which Whittington left
    f:or building and endowing almshouses met with a better
    fate. These have lately been rebuilt, from the rents of
    the lands left- by Whittington, nearly opposite to the stone
    called Whittington's Stone, at Holloway, near Highgate,
    in Middlesex; and are well known as Whittington's
    Iere ends the history of'Whittington and his Cat, from
    S which we may see how honesty, kindness, and industry
    meet with success, and that charity and piety are the best
    ornaments of the rich and great.


    New-* 47

  • University of Florida Home Page
    © 2004 - 2010 University of Florida George A. Smathers Libraries.
    All rights reserved.

    Acceptable Use, Copyright, and Disclaimer Statement
    Last updated October 10, 2010 - - mvs