LITTLE TOM

LITTLE TOM

TOLD
BY V. TILLE
AND ILLUSTRATED
BY O. ŠTÁFL.

PUBLISHED BY B. KOČÍ,
14, MASARYK QUAY, PRAGUE,
CZECHOSLOVAKIA.
1922.

CONTENTS.

Printed by Jos. B. Zápotočný, Rokycany, Czechoslovakia.

CHAPTER ONE.

THE CHRISTENING OF LITTLE TOM.

THE WIDOW THAT GATHERED HERBS. CHRISTMAS EVE.
THE MESSENGER OF THE KING OF THE GOBLINS.
THE CHRISTENING OF LITTLE TOM.
WHAT LITTLE TOM'S GODMOTHER FOUND IN THE WELL NEAR THE CHAPEL.

In a little wooden hut within the shadow of the forest and close to a noisy brook, a poor widow dwelt alone. She passed her days gathering and drying plants and herbs, from which she was forever making strange simples which proved very helpful to the village people and their cattle when illness came upon them. But the villagers only came to visit her when they had need of her medicines, and these had such wonderful power to cure that it was whispered about the lonely old woman to be a witch.

The villagers also told strange stories about her, for no one knew whence she came or when she had taken up her solitary abode apart from the village.

Many said that she sprang from the race of knights, who, in an age long past, lived in their great castle deep in the woods and on the hill which rose above the little hut. But no knights lived there now, nor had they for many, many years, and the castle had been in ruins for a longer time than the oldest people could remember. In fact, all that now remained of the great place which the old folks liked to tell their grandchildren about, was a little chapel near the edge of the dark woods and, beside it, an old, old well, now entirely filled up and overgrown with weeds.

But the widow was not lonely, nor did she wish anyone to help her care for her little house and the garden she loved so dearly, or even the field beyond where grazed her cow, »Speckle«. Whenever anyone came to her in trouble or in illness, she was glad to put aside on the instant whatever task she was about and to give her advice or administer the medicine which always brought relief and cure, for she understood all troubles and illnesses and knew the simples for each.

Inside the little hut, everything was as clean and orderly as one would find in the castles of the nobility, where many servants toiled and swept. Over the thatched roof an old lime tree spread its friendly branches, and all day long there sounded about the fragrant buds and blossoms sounded the cheerful humming of swarms of grateful bees.

The great beams along the walls of the hut were rubbed clean with red earth and on the whitewashed spaces, between the little windows and the door, were painted red and yellow flowers with leaves of green, while in its bed of earth a blue strip of real flowers ran all around the house.

On the gable ledge blossomed red and pink carnations and from the little balcony under the peak of the roof, with its carved wooden posts and railing, peered dried poppy heads, ears of yellow corn, sage and all manner of herbs and spices with strange odors. All these had been gathered in the clear, white light of the full moon before the dew had begun to fall.

Besides all these pleasant things, the garden was full of roses, mignonette and tall mallow. Close to the fence which ran all about it, grew gooseberries, currants and raspberries; and in the very middle of the garden was a bed of luscious red strawberries, flanked by rows of cabbages, lettuce and peas. Against the walls of the hut, between the windows, old, gnarled vines ran clear to the eaves, bearing bunches of delicious grapes.

The hut had one large room, a small chamber and the black kitchen, with its great fireplace and broad chimney. From the outside, it looked not unlike the houses of the villagers; but, inside, stood furniture of an older day. In a corner stood a bed of polished wood, piled high with white, downy quilts and covers. In the middle of the room was a round table with smooth, polished chairs set against it. Next to the wall was a beautifully carved old chest for clothes; on the wall, a clock with brass weights and a cuckoo that called the hours; and between the windows through which blossomed fuchsias and other plants, stood a rare old linen press, ornamented with flowers, birds, and hammered silver work.

But, most precious of all her possessions, was a little altar carved in ivory. In size, it was no larger than an apple; but it had two little doors, which, opening, showed a little stall, in which sat the Holy Virgin with the Child on her lap and, behind, a yellow ox and a grey donkey looking out across the manger and breathing upon the two. On the left, knelt the shepherds surrounded by their fleecy sheep; and, from the right, came the three kings with golden crowns on their heads and dressed in cloaks of violet, red and green. The black one was smiling and showing his white teeth, as they offered their gifts. All of the figures were just like life! The Virgin had a beautiful face with blue eyes and dark eyebrows, and the Babe was all pink and held in His hands a little golden apple.

It was a rare and precious piece of work, which the herb woman had been told was a relic of olden times, having come from the castle in the wood above the hut, to which it had been brought by one of the knights from the Holy Land.

All day long, the herb woman had much to do in caring for her house, fetching and drying her herbs and brewing her medicines. From one week's end to the other, she was never idle. But, on Sunday afternoons, when her work was done, she would take the little altar and place it on the press between the windows. Sitting down before it in a comfortable leather armchair, she would read to herself from a very old book, ornamented with hammered brass and with colored stones set in the covers. Her book told all about the patient Griselda, the siege of Troy, about Siegfried, Brunswick, Blanik, and many other brave heroes. Around the first letter of each story, were painted knights, princesses, men-at-arms, magic castles, and scenes from strange, oversea countries.

Looking at the pictures in her book and at the little figures of the altar, the old woman would think of bygone days when she was a bright little child, playing with her friends in make-believe weddings and christenings before this same little altar; and when her grandmother, sitting in the same old chair, would read to them stories from the old book and tell them of the former fame of their knightly home; of how the knights fared forth to the Holy Land, while their wives sat at home in the great castle, embroidering silks and cambrics, and the little children played in the castle garden.

Her thoughts travelled back to herself, growing into beautiful girlhood; then, as a bride and the happy wife of a good husband; later, as the mother of two beautiful babies; then, sad memories crowded her weary head. Her husband and the two little children had died and she was left alone, without any relatives and without money, and with only this little hut in the shadow of the wood where she might live and earn her food.

Often she sat like this, until the shadows of night had gathered around her; and the older she grew, the more heavily these sad thoughts weighed upon her. Each year, she felt herself growing weaker and began to be fearful that she could not manage to work at home and to gather the herbs in the woods and fields. In the winter, when the garden was covered with snow and the great drifts kept her from the village, she became even more sad to think how alone she was, the last of her race, with no one to whom she could tell her troubles and who would be a companion to her.

Now, one year, it was the day before Christmas. The snow had drifted against the little house clear to the eaves. As was her custom, she had brought from the forest a little Christmas tree and, having set it in a box, in earth carried from the wood, began to trim it. She hung from the branches gilded nuts and draped the tree with festoons of colored paper. Then, she fastened tiny, wax candles to the branches and then she peeled some apples and, finally, lighted the little candles, thinking of the used to dance and play olden days at home when they danced and played around the Christmas tree. The fire burned cheerily in the broad hearth with its green glass tiles. The room was warm and filled with the odor of mint and of lavender. As she sat thus, alone before the tree, presently, her head fell forward upon her hands which rested upon the linen press, and she slept.

The old lady dreamed she was a girl again, in her Sunday dress and with her braided hair held by a red ribbon, kneeling before the little altar. Suddenly, she saw the Holy Virgin smiling at her and the little Baby stretching out its tiny hands and handing the golden apple to her; the sheep began to bleat, the shepherds were bowing, and the three kings swung their burning censers and walked toward her over the shining surface of the linen press. She even heard them call her by name and speak to her.

The old lady woke with a start, but the voices seemed to call to her faintly, as if from a great distance. She looked about her, but saw no one. The same faint sound of voices was still to be heard, and, now, right under the tree, she perceived a tiny little man in a red coat, just as if one of the three kings had really come from the altar and wakened her. Not one whit surprised, she bent toward him. It seemed to her that she had always known him.

The little man scrambled up to the edge of the old book which still lay upon the press, bowed, stroked his black beard, and spoke: »Honored lady, my people send me to ask of you, in the name of our king, a favor. A prince has been born to us and we should like to celebrate his christening here before this little altar, which is most precious to us. Our kingdom lies in the corridors under the old castle and extends to the well by the little chapel, and even to your hut. Our forefathers were true servants of your ancestors, the knights of the castle, and guarded for them their treasure. In this little altar are pictured the faces of our former kings.«

The old lady was pleased that the gnomes wished thus to honor her little altar and readily gave her consent, that they might come to it in order to celebrate the christening of their prince. The messenger bowed and, running quickly down her dress to the floor, disappeared through a little hole by the hearth. Immediately, from behind the great hearth, came the most wonderful procession she had ever seen.

First, came the pipers and the band of musicians, playing on strange, curved trumpets and beating drums that sounded like the hum of many flying insects. Behind them walked the old king and the young queen in long robes of spotted butterfly wings and wearing golden crowns that glistened with precious stones; then the nurse, bearing a little baby upon a cushion of silver cobweb, tied with a hair of gold. Following them were many dignitaries in gorgeous cloaks and, last of all, came men and women of the people, hurrying across the floor like little insects, for they were hardly any larger.

When the procession of tiny folk reached the old lady's shoe, they fearlessly climbed up her skirt to her lap and on across her arms which rested on the press. She laughed to see the great crowd walk over her and was careful not to move—indeed, she hardly breathed—lest she might hurt one of them.

When all had gathered around the tree, one old man took the little prince in his arms and, as the others knelt before him, he made them a long speech. The old lady could not understand it at all, for it sounded to her like a fly buzzing on the window pane; but, when the old man had finished, all shouted together: »Long live our prince, Tom! May he reign happily!«

The girls began to dance around the tree and all the little people jumped and laughed and shouted with merriment. The king and the queen, followed by the nurse with the little prince, stepped upon the old book, which made a good platform, and thanked the herb woman for her kindness. The king then begged her to be a kind godmother to the prince and to continue to be a good friend to his people, just as her ancestors had been. The old lady promised this with pleasure, for she felt a great love for the little folk who brought back so vividly the days when her people were rich and famous.

The queen started to take the wrappings from the tiny baby, which were bound round and round about him, and the herb woman and the old king talked of the golden days gone by. The king told her the tales he had from his forefathers, of the brilliant life in the great castle; how the gnomes nestled in the soft tapestries by the great marble hearths; how they cleaned and polished the gold and precious stones in the underground chambers; how, on clear moonlight nights, they danced graceful figures with the fairies; and how, with grasshoppers as horses, they held noisy tournaments.

Whenever there was a newborn baby in the castle, the gnomes, in the night, wove beautiful dreams which they spread out in the rays of the moon under the canopy of the mother's bed and guarded the baby in its silver cradle.

The old lady listened happily, gazing at the gathering of the gnomes, lighted by the trembling rays of the candles, now almost burned out. Many of the young men had clambered into the branches of the tree and were swinging in the paper chains and sitting astride the golden nuts and red apples. Little girls were sliding back and forth on the slippery surface of the press, while serious old men and grayhaired women walked sedately in groups around the base of the tree. There were so many of the little people that they could not be counted.

The herb woman looked at the swiftly moving, variegated crowd until her eyelids drooped. She was already half asleep when the old king came to bid her good-by and, as in a dream, she heard him say: »Honored lady, for centuries your race protected us and, today, we would like to reward you. The great treasures of your family long ago disappeared, but, in the old, choked-up well, there still remains much gold. This we have carefully guarded from generation to generation and kept in clean and good order. In the well casing, in the fifth circle of stones from the top, you will find one engraved with a horseshoe. Behind this stone, you will find the money which your forefathers hid there; but be careful to replace the stone and not to disturb our underground realm.«

When the old woman awoke, all was quiet and dark in the room. The candles on the tree had quite burned out, the cuckoo in the clock called twelve, and from the village, came the sound of bells, ringing the glad tidings of Christmas Day. Across the brook, she could see the lanterns flickering in the village square and the people gathering for church. But she did not feel strong enough to go to the midnight service. Then she thought, with a smile, of what she had seen on Christmas Eve, but she said to herself with a sigh, »It was only a dream«, and took herself off to bed.

In the morning she milked Speckle and, as she drank the good, warm milk, she laughed to herself over her dream. But it would not leave her mind and, presently, she went to the hearth to see whence the procession of gnomes had come. She found nothing but a hole in the floor, large enough for a cat to pass through; but she thought to herself, »Why should I not go to the well by the chapel?«

Over her shoulders she threw a warm sheepskin coat, with the wool inside and flowers embroidered on the outside, such as the country people wear, and, taking a hoe and a lantern, went to the chapel.

There had been a keen frost and the fields were covered with snow, which sparkled in the sun. The snow was also away up to the eaves of the chapel, while from the blackberry stalks over the well, hung transparent icicles. The herb woman pushed aside the bushes and, crawling into the well, dug away the rubbish until she had uncovered the fifth circle of stones with which the well was lined.

She laughed at herself to think that she should believe in dreams; but her heart was beating rapidly as she lighted her lantern and, digging away the gravel, looked at one stone after the other. »When I do not find the stone with the horseshoe,« she thought, »I will be convinced that it was only a dream.« But as she touched the damp moss on one stone, she felt a little depression and, when she had cleaned it, there was the horseshoe.

The stone was large and heavy and her hands trembled as she set her hoe into the fissure; but lo! the stone was not cemented like the rest and was easily loosened. When she had pulled it out, from behind the stone, came shining gold pieces, as bright and clean as if they had been minted only the day before. Off came her apron, in which she tied up the money; but the bundle was so heavy that she could hardly lift it.

She would have liked to look still further into the realm of the gnomes, for behind the stone was a hole running deep into the ground; but she thought of the old king's request and, setting the stone in its place, hurried back home with her treasure.

Now, she was rid of all worry as to how she should keep herself when she should grow very old. In her heart, she thanked the little gnomes for their care of her and decided to remain in her little hut as long as she lived.

CHAPTER TWO.

HOW LITTLE TOM WAS FOUND BY HIS GODMOTHER.

THE SPRING. THE FLOOD.
HOW THE GODMOTHER FOUND LITTLE TOM
IN A NUTSHELL.
HOW LITTLE TOM TOOK UP HIS ABODE ON CASTLE
EASTER EGG.
HOW THE GODMOTHER BROUGHT LITTLE TOM
HIS OUTFIT.
WHAT LITTLE TOM TOLD HIS GODMOTHER
ABOUT THE REALM OF GOBLINS.

The winter was cruelly cold. Snow covered the paths and drifted high against the little hut. With difficulty the herb woman made paths to the stable and to the brook.

In the night, when she could not sleep, she listened to every slight sound, in the hope that her little friends would appear again. But nothing ever happened; it was only the hoot of an owl outside, or the squeak of a mouse. The gnomes never came forth again from their underground realm.

So, in the day time she read and sewed, pondering how she could go to the nearest town to change her money and buy many little things for her comfort and for the improvement of the little hut. Her gold pieces she had hidden well behind a green tile on the hearth.

Finally, the snow began to melt, the sun became warmer, the fields lost their coat of white, the meadows became green, and spring had come. When Easter arrived, she had already planted her garden and stripped the roses of their winter coverings. The snow drops and gillyflowers were blossoming by the brook; the cowslips were poking their yellow caps out of their beds, and over the fields the larks sang joyously.

The herb woman placed her treasure in a covered basket, shut the hens in their coops, put fresh grass in Speckle's manger, let the dog, Rover, into the yard, locked the door of the little hut and went on her way to town. She walked lightly, as if she had grown younger during the winter and did not at all mind the long journey.

In town she was surprised at what she received for her gold; if she should live a hundred years, she could not use all her money. So it was placed in a bank for safe keeping and the people treated her with great respect. They knew that she had come from a good family, but as she had lived so modestly, no one knew how wealthy she was.

When she had made her purchases and finished her business, she wished to rest awhile in town, but word had come that the heavy rain in the mountains had caused the snow to melt and the water to rush down in torrents. She knew very well how bad the brook became when it was swollen and she worried lest the hut might be carried away and something happen to Speckle. So she hurried home and, on the way, she saw the swollen brook stretched out over the meadows like a lake.

When she reached the village, it was dark, and already the people were beginning to light up their houses. Many of the little foot bridges had been swept away, the water reached nearly to the village square and she found it impossible to cross the stream. The torrent raged and stormed, bearing along branches, small trees and cakes of ice.

In vain the old lady peered across the bank to the farther shore in the attempt to see if her little hut was still standing; but the darkness was so thick that you could cut it with a knife. There was nothing left for her to do but to ask the good villagers for shelter over night.

The next day, when the sun shone out, the torrent had subsided and the brook was running between its banks in a steady stream. The hut was still standing, but the bank was undermined and the little bridge carried away. So the widow had herself taken across in a boat and, in great anxiety, hurried to the hut to see what changes had been wrought. The garden was covered with mud and on the meadow were little pools of glistening water. Out of the yard bounded Rover barking heartily and, from her stall, Speckle mooed a welcome. The hens came hurrying out of their coop, flapping their wings and cackling, and straightway began to scratch in the ground in search of little worms. Inside the hut, the hall was wet through and in the best room stood little pools of water.

The herb woman took her broom and swept out some of the water and with a cloth mopped up the little pools. Near the hearth the water was quite deep and swirling around and running away through the hole behind. On the water swam a tiny barge formed from a hazel nut, and in this boat was a very small lad indeed, rowing with his oars of straw and working with all his might, so that the whirlpool should not carry him back into the hole.

The widow lifted up the shell very carefully and placed it on the palm of her hand. The tiny lad, letting go his oars, clasped his hands and said, »Dear Godmother, I thank you very much for saving me. I am Little Tom, but am so very tired that I can hardly sit up.« But his weariness came only from his efforts to keep himself from being swept back into the hole.

His Godmother placed the little fellow gingerly on the table and next to him she put a drop of milk and beside it a crumb of bread. Little Tom gulped the milk eagerly and ate nearly the whole crumb. When she placed near him a tiny bit of cloth for a pillow, Tom lay down and fell asleep.

She watched the little fellow tenderly as he lay there so quietly and all worn out with his hard work. He was now a fullgrown lad, finely built and with black hair. His little hands he had clasped across his breast. She felt very badly to think of his sufferings through the night in that terrible flood and she wondered what might have happened to the underground realm of the gnomes.

While he was sleeping, she started to work. She scrubbed the floor very clean, then sifted dry sand all over it; cleaned up the garden, and then put some soup to cook over the fire in the kitchen. When she returned to the big room, Little Tom was sitting up, rubbing his blue eyes with his little fists and calling for his mother. As he looked around, he recognized his Godmother and began to cry bitterly. The old lady tried to soothe him, begging him not to cry and to tell her all that had happened. But, for a long time, he could not be quieted. When he had cried himself out, he told her what misfortunes had come upon the underground realm.

All the gnomes were quietly sleeping, utterly unconscious of any danger, when, all of a sudden, great waters came from under the well, flooded the entire town, tore down the walls and rose to the upper floors. His mother woke Little Tom and ran with him to the upper corridor, through which was already running the stream which was their main river.

On this stream stood the great navy of the gnomes, made from walnut shells. The entire court entered the ships and started rowing to the east from the underground country; but the stream continued to rise and the over-crowded ships began to rock, until they sank one after the other and all the gnomes were lost. Little Tom knew how to swim very well but he would surely have been drowned, if he had not caught hold of a hazel-nut boat. This was taken up by a little current and swept through the hole by the hearth into the Godmother's large room.

Instantly, Little Tom knew where he was, for his parents had often told him of his christening and how kind the Godmother was to them all; so he continued to row with all his might, hoping that his Godmother would return in time to save him.

She was surprised to find him grown up, for at Christmas time, he was only a tiny baby, wrapped up in his cushions. Little Tom explained, that with the gnomes each week is counted as a year, so that he was now fifteen years old. Before that age, no prince may ever leave the underground realm, but must be studying and learning and, after that, he may only go into the outside world for experience. They were just preparing to celebrate his coming of age at his Godmother's and to send him on his journey into the world, when the great flood came and destroyed the whole kingdom. Little Tom was the only one of them to be saved, and that seemed to be through a miracle.

The Godmother did not wish to remind him of his misfortunes, so she told him that she would take good care of him and that he would find it very pleasant in her hut; but she was worried how she should find a suitable place for him to sleep, and how she should clothe him and provide the things necessary for his comfort.

She placed him on the top of the linen press and opened the altar for him; and when he saw the faces of the little figures, Tom became very cheerful, saying that the lady with the Child on her lap was very much like his mother. While Little Tom was looking at the kings, the shepherds and the manger, his Godmother found a nice, large Easter egg that was all hollow and gaily painted in red and yellow. With a pin she pricked out a door on one side, and on the other, two windows; then she set the egg firmly in the earth, under the tree and told him this would be his home and that he should carry some earth inside, and stamp it into a hard, level floor. She wanted to give him something to keep him busy, so that he would not think of the misfortunes that had befallen him.

Little Tom crawled inside and admired the great hall, beautifully arched from the finest alabaster, standing under the wonderful tree with its golden fruit. He asked his Godmother to set him in the branches, so that he might look at the golden nuts and taste of the figs and dates. He was happy to think that this magic tree from the outside world would shelter him for many, many years.

Then he climbed down the trunk, lowering himself by the little spines as if they were the rounds of a ladder. He decided to build a wall all around Castle Easter Egg and to lay out a garden under the tree.

The herb woman left him busily working and, taking her hoe, went to the well by the chapel to learn how the kingdom of the gnomes had fared. She took out the stone engraved with the horseshoe and dug behind in until she saw a little corridor, in which was a confusion of stones, mud and water. Everything was torn down and ruined and of the gnomes, she heard not a sound. She felt very sad to think they all had perished and she started to cover the hole and replace the stone. But when she took it up, she was surprised to find how light it seemed. Examining it more carefully, she noticed at the back a tiny, polished metal door. Upon pressing this with her finger, it opened and she saw that the inside of the stone was entirely hollowed out and filled with many little particles.

It occurred to her that, perhaps after all, some possessions of the gnomes remained that might prove useful to Tom; so she put the stone on her shoulder and taking care that nothing should fall out, carried it home.

When she came into the big room, she found that Tom had already made the floor inside his castle and was now engaged in building a wall around it out of shining, little pebbles. The Godmother laid a cloth on the top of the press and placed the stone on the cloth.

»Little Tom,« she said, »I have brought you something for remembrance. Your kingdom is all gone; but do not be sorry, for you will stay with me and we will live happily together. Now, perhaps you will find something in this stone that will be useful to you.«

Tom crawled sadly into the stone, but, at once, shouted with pleasure. »Dear Godmother,« he called, »this is our royal treasury and it contains furniture, clothes, linen, arms and dishes; all sorts of things. Now, I have everything I need and you will see how nicely I will arrange my new home.«

At once, he began to carry out of the stone the rich stores he found there. His Godmother placed a tiny piece of cloth by the stone and when Tom had piled it high with cupboards, tables and chairs, she raised it very carefully and placed it under the tree. In spite of all her care, it happened that she broke the leg of a chair and knocked off a corner of cupboard. She was very sorry, but Tom soothed her by saying that he would repair everything. When he began to bring out the dishes, painted porcelain left by his grandmother, cups, saucers and pitchers, old silver pieces and other treasures, he was very fearful that she might break these, too. To her, they seemed like tiny bits of glistening sand; but she made him a little wooden staircase that she set against the tree box, and up and down this he climbed, carrying his treasures to his castle. He worked so hard all day that by night he was completely tired out.

In the meantime, the Godmother had gone about her own work; but when, in the evening, she came back into the room she found that the stone had been cleaned out. In the door of Castle Easter Egg hung a flowered carpet for a curtain and at the windows were little shades. Inside, the furniture had all been set in order, but, outside, there still remained piles of the precious stores. She was sorry she could not see inside very well to look at Tom's housekeeping, and was afraid to touch the egg lest his castle should go to pieces.

In the morning, he was early awake and went carefully over his garden, measuring out the paths and deciding where he would have lawns, and where he would start a forest of moss. Then he made a store room for his surplus supplies, dug a well and completed the wall around the castle.

His Godmother helped him as best she could, cutting tiny pieces of wood and cloth for his use. The well they made from an old thimble. She left him busy at work, noting how diligent and orderly he was and how well he had been educated; for he seemed to understand everything that needed to be done. She was pleased that he had so much to keep him busy, that he would have no time for bitter reflections.

During the day, each went about his or her own work; but in the evening they sat together, the Godmother at the table eating her thick soup and potatoes. Upon the table Tom had his own little table and chair opposite her. For his supper, he had a baked grain of wheat, a hash of sunflower seed, or two or three grains of millet fried in butter. He always ate with delicacy. His food tasted good to him and after it was eaten, he drank some milk.

When they had cleared away the things they talked together. The Godmother wished to know how the gnomes lived in their underground kingdom and Tom told her all that he could. What they did outside in the fields, he did not know, for he had been obliged to remain at home and study in the schools; but he described very well all that happened in the underground town which had bustled with people. He had seen long lines of them bringing home food, riding on grasshoppers, making traps for flies and butterflies, bringing in the captured tree insects and the spotted bugs which were kept in roomy stalls.

For himself, he had a fine grasshopper, which carried him along the corridors lighted by torches from dried wood which gave out soft blue flames. He told how his father and mother used to play with him and about his little friend Chrysomela, a sweet little girl who had been educated with him. Together, they used to run and play and watch the gnomes digging in the mountains or go for a row on the underground river. Then he spoke of the frequent visits of foreign guests, gold beetles, and spotted wood bugs who came in stately processions and brought fine messages of greeting and beautiful presents. He told especially of a visit, just before the flood, made by many black ants whom the gnomes feasted and welcomed with great honor. His father, the king, presented them to him, telling him how diligent and orderly they were and what good friends they were to him. He promised Tom that when he should grow up he would send him to them for their teaching, so that he might learn how to rule over the kingdom.

Tom would often speak of these things he remembered, but, at the end, he would always become sad, when he thought how all his kingdom had been destroyed and everything had disappeared, and that he would never again see his loved ones.

The Godmother listened to his stories with great pleasure, but she realized that Tom must have some occupation that would keep him busy and not only prevent him from thinking too much of the past, but also prepare him for the life he was to lead in the future.

CHAPTER THREE.

LITTLE TOM'S TRIP
AROUND THE WORLD.

LITTLE TOM'S HOUSEHOLD.
LITTLE TOM WRITES A DIARY.
HE LEARNS TO READ THE BOOKS OF MEN.
HOW LITTLE TOM READ WITH HIS FEET AND HOW HE
TURNED THE LEAVES.
LITTLE TOM LEARNS GEOGRAPHY AND WANTS TO
MAKE A TRIP ROUND THE WORLD.
WHAT HE WROTE IN HIS DIARY ABOUT THIS TRIP.

Little Tom had his day well planned. He rose early and, as his Godmother placed every night on his castle grounds an earthern-ware plate full of fresh water he would jump into it the first thing and swim all around in it. When he had finished his bath he would take his breakfast in the garden.

Under the tree was his store of provisions: A hazel nut with an end cut off so that he could take out little bits from time to time, lasting him a whole month; a beechnut; sunflower seeds; a piece of sugar; and a wonderful apple, into which he cut a narrow passage so that it would not dry up from the outside.

When he had breakfasted he would sweep the carpet in his room, clean his clothes and shoes, exercise with his weapons so that he would not forget the arts of defence he had learned at his home, and then go into the garden to plant and weed. Sometimes, he hunted for the ugly worms that dug great ditches in the vegetable beds.

When the Godmother rose she would come to say good morning to Tom, look at his work, praise and advise him. When she saw it was necessary to water the tree, she would tell Tom to take away his tools and would then pour water over the tree from a fine sprinkler. Tom loved to run about in this rain and was happy to think that he could so bravely bear the heavy shower.

After she had gone away, he would write in his diary, describing everything he had been doing, as well as all those things he could remember from his former kingdom, so that nothing should be forgotten. For this purpose, he had a beautiful, smooth parchment, tanned from the skins of white tree bugs, sharp pens, made from the bills of gnats, and fine writing sand from the powder of butterflies' wings. He only lacked ink, but he found a way to get that. On the tree, he discovered the smoky wicks from the candles; mixing the soot with water he made himself some excellent ink; but in doing this, he became so black that when his Godmother saw him she feared that he had turned into a negro.

He took his dinner alone, but always looked forward to the evening meal when he could sit down and talk with his Godmother.

Thus the days passed happily. He worked about his castle and in the garden and was kept busy with his housekeeping. Every day he was becoming more manly and strong and, as he grew up, he thought more and more of his past, of his birth and what he would have accomplished had he become a king and ruled over his underground realm.

One evening, when they were sitting together and Little Tom was speaking of all the things in the world he would like to do, his Godmother said, »Dear Little Tom, before you can do great things in the world, it is necessary that you should learn how to read and write as large people do, so that you can know what they are doing«.

But Tom answered, »I know how to read and write very well, Godmother. I will show you what I have written.« And when, at his request, she placed him on the press, he ran into the castle and brought out a whole armful of parchments; but it seemed to her that they were only a lot of tiny petals from cherry blossoms.