The yule log

VI.

THE ROSE AND THE LILY.

AMID a garden of flowers the queen Rose and the queen Lily stood pre-eminent; but they, like all beauties, were extremely jealous of each other, and were not willing to divide the palm between them, but each one was anxious to be acknowledged as the “flower of the flowers.” Knowing the foibles of the two rival ladies, an old orange-tree sought to ingratiate himself into the favor of both by alternately flattering them in private, and laughing at the ridiculous pretensions of the one to the other, whispering to each that her charms could not be surpassed; and then the false old fellow used to entertain his friend, the oleander, who was not a lady’s man at all, with stories of the vanity of the two queens, and of the lucky strokes of flattery which had told so well on his susceptible listeners. But he soon found that his sincerity was going to be put to the test, for these partisans could no longer conceal their rivalry; so the Rose openly threw down the gauntlet to the Lily, and called upon all the flowers of the garden to pronounce upon their respective merits, and to decide which should henceforward take the lead among them. The old orange-tree was chosen by the consent of both the queens to be the chief judge, each of them thinking that the umpire was enlisted in her favor, and thereby that they had the game in their own hands. Now, the old gallant did not wish to have anything to say in the matter, but, as they were both so solicitous, he could not refuse them with a very good grace; and, to put on the best face, he invited all the flowers of the garden to an entertainment, at which he gave out that the question was to be put for ever at rest.

When the queen Lily received her invitation she said to one of her fair maidens, “The presumption of that flaunting Rose deserves its punishment, and, were it not that she would be vain enough to suppose that I am afraid to show myself beside her, I would decline meeting her altogether; but she would feed her vanity upon my refusal, therefore I shall give my orders to all the family to adorn themselves, and be in readiness to attend me to-morrow at midnight.”

The orange-tree spared neither labor nor expense in the preparations. A table was set out in a large arbor in the midst of the garden, with refreshments, and the walks were brilliantly illuminated by lamps which the glow-worms and the fire-flies furnished. A fine orchestra of birds was stationed on the top of the arbor, and long before midnight all were in readiness, and the orange-tree was awaiting, with the oleander beside him (who, by the way, had enjoyed a quiet pipe or two), the arrival of the guests. Many of the flowers came early, but the orchestra only struck up when the queen Rose approached; she was received with distinguished attention by the orange-tree, who presented her to the oleander. The ill-mannered old bachelor, instead of rising and leading her to a chair, merely nodded his head, and remained stiffly seated, much to the mortification of the orange-tree, whose own manners were polished, and very deferential to ladies, though I have no doubt that the oleander cared far more for them in his heart than the courtly, but rather deceptive, orange-tree.

The queen was dressed in her diamonds, and no one could blame her for the pride with which she looked around upon her attendants, who, blooming with youth and beauty, were filling the seats. There was the white rose (always a favorite), with her modest and unpretending manners; the damask, with her beautiful blush; and even the wild rose was there, and, as the queen observed to one of her intimates, “Though she had been brought up in the country, and not at all accustomed to fashionable society, there was a native grace about her, and a propriety of manner, which made her very presentable, owing, no doubt, to the good blood she had in her veins.” The queen was very gracious to all, and only once did she seem at all disturbed, and that was when the little prude, the moss-rose, passed her, making such a show of her modesty, in pretending to hide her face under her veil, when she knew well enough she was only enhancing her charms by so doing; and presently, when the little beauty stole shyly into a corner, as if to get out of sight, every one said she was striving to captivate Monsieur de Yellow Rose, a gentleman who had travelled in foreign parts, and was by all odds the most desirable beau in the room. Her artifice must have succeeded, for they presently commenced a flirtation with each other that lasted the whole evening. Now a second flourish of trumpets by the orchestra heralded the approach of the Lilies, and at the sound there was quite a sensation among the Roses, who all shook up their perfumes, and seemed not a little fluttered. As for the queen Rose, she was quite agitated, and her color heightened as the queen Lily, with a splendid train, swept in with such a calm and undisturbed dignity. First after the queen came the water-lily, who wore a crown of gold on her head, and had sailed down from her home in her gondola. When the queen Rose caught sight of her she whispered, “What a shame it was for the Lily to make pretension that the water-lily was related to her family, when every one knew well enough there was no foundation for it, excepting the mere accident of their having the same family name.” But her indignation went far beyond this when she saw the fleur-de-lis among the rest, and she cried, “This is unbearable; he is of a French family, not in any wise connected with her, who, I do not doubt, she urged so strongly to attend her that, with the good breeding and politeness for which his nation is so celebrated, he could not refuse.”

She now caught sight of the lily of the valley, and exclaimed, “So, so, my Lady Lily condescends at last to take notice of her humble little cousin, who has lived for years in retirement, and who, no doubt, would have remained there still had not some flowers of distinction noticed her, and brought her forward. I was in hopes that the little thing would have had spirit enough to reject the advances made to her at such a late hour.” Notwithstanding her affecting to despise the pretensions of the Lily, the Rose was not at all at her ease; she felt that as the Lily sailed around the circle, with her graceful air, she was a rival to be feared, and was not so sanguine of gaining the victory as she had been. She saw that the placid mien of the queen Lily had not been without its effect in calling forth the admiration of those present; might they not even be led to overlook the beauty which she felt conscious far exceeded the Lily’s, by that lady’s self-possession and imposing carriage. At any rate, the Rose felt uneasy, and was quite nervous, and began rather to repent of her rashness in thus entering into the lists without first measuring the resources of her adversary.

But she need not have been so alarmed; the orange-tree knew too well what he was about to risk his standing with either of the ladies by siding with the other, so, after walking about among the company, and holding consultation with one and another, he at last gave the signal for the guests to gather round the table, and partake of the delicacies that were set before them. After their glasses had been filled he raised his voice, and proposed as a toast—“The Queen Rose and the Queen Lily;” and when they had drunk and lowered their glasses, he bowed to the rivals, and addressed them thus:—

“Ladies, when you compare one with the other you both do yourselves injustice. The charm of the Rose is her bloom and warmth—that of the Lily her exceeding fairness; both of you are pieces of perfection, but of different casts. Should you, Madam (addressing the Rose), attempt to attain the whiteness of the Lily, you would only succeed in dimming your natural brightness; and you (to the Lily), in striving to gain the glow of the Rose, would only mar your purity without reaching your desire. Be, therefore, content to shine resplendent each in the way that nature has marked out for you, and be not envious or displeased that another excels in a different way. Learn also that the Rose suffers nothing by a display of the perfection of the Lily, nor the Lily by being brought into comparison with the Rose, for the beauty of each will be only enhanced by the contrast.”

The oleander and the other flowers all concurred in the sentiments expressed by the old orange-tree; and the ladies themselves, though at first they were both a little angry, and inclined to accuse the orange-tree with treachery, after a few moments’ consideration, acknowledged the justice of the remarks just made, and the Rose came forward in a very frank manner and gave her hand to the Lily, who, on her part, received the concession with a graceful friendliness. After they had partaken of the delicacies, they left the table arm in arm, and thus promenaded for some time before the admiring gaze of the assembly; their attendants followed their example, and the Roses and Lilies, commingling instead of standing coldly apart, gave such a variety and animation to the scene that all declared there never had been so brilliant a fete in the garden as this. The oleander was so inspired by the scene that he quite melted from his apathetic state, and danced and laughed with the best, and invited the company, before they separated, to a banquet that he would prepare them the following week, and even engaged the orchestra in attendance to be present.

All parted with the greatest kindness and good feeling, and the amity thus commenced continued through their lives, and resulted in the mutual advantage of the queen Rose and the queen Lily.

THERE once lived a King, who had reigned for many years over his kingdom, and with his Queen was idolized by his subjects. Only one thing was wanting to make his happiness complete. This was the want of an heir to his crown; and when, after a long period had elapsed, contrary to all expectations, a son was born to him, you may be sure there was great rejoicing throughout the land.

In that country, as in many others, it was the custom for all the male children born on the same day with the heir-apparent to the crown to be brought up with him, and devoted to his service. They were educated at the expense of the State, and the parents thought themselves indeed fortunate in having their children so magnificently provided for without exertion on their own part. Amid these youths Prince Anjah, who in reality was a paragon of beauty, stood pre-eminent. They were all fine looking and noble boys, excepting one, the dwarfish Balzebar, who was ugly in countenance and deformed in person, and of so weak an intellect that he was almost an idiot. He was, beside this, both deaf and dumb. The King was going to reject this poor little mischance at first, but the Queen, who was a wise and benevolent woman, represented to her husband that this misfortune, in being incapable of providing for himself, gave him a more especial claim on the protection of his sovereign, and besides that, as everything, however humble and despised, had its use, this unfortunate child might perhaps be destined to exert some powerful influence on the fortunes of their son. Her words made such an impression on the King’s mind, he consented to receive Balzebar with the rest, to the great joy of his parents, who would not otherwise have known what to do with him.

As the children grew older, Anjah, who was of a most generous and noble disposition, took Balzebar under his own particular care and guardianship, and thus prevented poor Balzebar from being harassed as he would have been by the ridicule of his more unthinking companions, who delighted in tormenting the poor soul, and in playing their tricks upon him. Balzebar in return became so attached to Prince Anjah, that he followed him about everywhere, as a dog might have done his master who was kind to him, and was never contented away from him. It was a curious sight to see the tall and finely-formed Anjah followed everywhere by this little stunted and ugly dwarf.

When the Prince had reached his eighteenth year, in accordance with the custom of that time, he was sent to a foreign country, where learning and the arts were in an advanced state, to be educated. All the young men, his followers, accompanied him, even Balzebar; for though the King and his ministers had at first decided that he should remain at home, fearing that the constant appearance of such an inferior personage in his train might be prejudicial to the dignity of the young Prince, yet, at the earnest solicitation of Anjah (who knew that the faithful creature would grieve himself to death if he should forsake him), he was permitted to depart with them. A fine vessel had been put in order for their use, and with a band of music the Prince and his retinue were escorted to the place where it was in waiting. Great crowds were collected on the shore, and the loud huzzas of the populace drowned the swelling notes of the trumpet as their Prince, with his white plumes floating to the wind, stepped on board the ship; but they could scarcely restrain a yell of contempt and derisive laughter as the little hump-backed mute followed after him up the plank with the agility of a monkey. Two and two the others embarked, and the young men stood on the upper deck together as the vessel moved off, and waved their adieus, till at last the helmet with the snowy plumes, which was the distinguishing mark of the Prince, could no longer be seen.

Anjah felt grieved at parting with his parents, and as his father was quite an old man, he thought it very probable that he should never see him again, for he was to remain five long years away from home; and the tears, in spite of his efforts, started forth as he saw the King watching the receding vessel, and knew what a pang his heart was suffering in thus separating from his child, the pride of his old age. But when distance shut from his sight the land and all familiar objects, the world seemed as it were opening before him, full of bright promise; he forgot his sorrow, and as the bark bounded lightly over the billows, his heart danced within him, buoyant with hope and pleasure. After a short and prosperous voyage, they came in view of the beautiful land which was their destination. They were received by the King of the country with distinguished honor, befitting their rank and importance. This King was reputed to be as wise as Solomon, and had collected to his court all the learned men of the world; and hither were sent the youth of high rank from all nations, to learn wisdom of these sages. But their parents would have done well to have kept them at home out of harm’s way, for the high-spirited young men who flocked to this Temple of Minerva thought their own wisdom far superior to that of the sages, and held all their acquirements in very light esteem; and if they learned anything at all, it was the knowledge which experience gives, which, to be sure, is the very best sort of lore, but which they might have acquired just as perfectly anywhere else.

Anjah had not been long there before he became initiated into the secret that Merea, the King’s daughter, was the most beautiful Princess in the world, and he pondered much more deeply on this fact than on the philosophy of the schools, and he strove with much greater assiduity to be the successful candidate for her heart and hand than for the prizes offered to the victorious scholar, or the laurel wreath of the poet. As he was far handsomer than all her other suitors, he had very little difficulty in gaining the young maiden’s particular and approving notice. His agreeable manners became a certain passport to her favor, and she so honored him above the rest, that Anjah, conscious of victory, assumed rather a high and triumphant air among those who were, like himself, captivated with the King’s charming daughter. He spent all his leisure time in her company, and did not rest easy till he had obtained her father’s permission to address his daughter, which he found little difficulty in gaining, for the King “as wise as Solomon,” saw very plainly that no more noble son-in-law would ever be likely to present himself. After Anjah had conversed with Merea, and found the maiden already won, he sent to seek his father’s consent to his betrothal to her, as the fame of her excellence and beauty had reached him. The King, his father, could think of no more suitable consort for his son than a Princess so charming and of such a high rank, so, sending his approval and blessing to his son, Anjah and Merea were publicly betrothed. Then, and not till then, Anjah applied himself sedulously to the study of the sciences which should fit him for governing a kingdom, and filling with dignity the exalted station to which Providence had destined him.

Three years passed away, and Anjah’s improvement in mind did honor to his teachers, and to his own perseverance and capacity; two years more, and the allotted time of his exile, (which owing to the society of Merea, had been anything but irksome,) would be fulfilled, and he was looking forward to the time when he should return with his bride to his native land, when a hasty summons came, commanding him to speed his departure, as his father was lying at the point of death, and longed once more to see his son alive. Anjah delayed not a moment to obey the call, though his heart was full of conflicting emotions—sorrow at being obliged to leave his betrothed, mingled with anxiety to see his father once more; and bidding adieu to the many friends that his kindness and affability had won, he went with his followers down to the vessel, which had been sent to convey him home, accompanied by the King, the Princess Merea, and all their retinue. The King, in bidding him farewell, pronounced a blessing, and conferred on him many valuable presents as marks of his favor; but the Princess, when she parted with him, gave him only one keepsake, but that was of surpassing richness; it was a cloak of beaten gold, curiously wrought, of the purest metal, so elastic and pliable that it fell like a mantle over his shoulders; she clasped it with her own hands about his neck, and then by signs bade Balzebar, who stood beside them, to make it his especial care, so that Anjah should not lose or be robbed of it.

In the time of their sojourn in this country, Balzebar had attached himself more than ever to Anjah; and Merea, who had petted him, on account of his attachment to the Prince, was looked upon by the dwarf as almost as great a paragon as his master,—indeed, an angel of goodness. She became so associated in his mind with the Prince Anjah, that he was ever eager to do her bidding, and promised to take care of the cloak, and suffer no one to take it away; then giving Prince Anjah her last adieu, Merea departed with her father. Anjah assuring her that he would return as speedily as possible, and make her his wife. When the vessel was out at sea, Anjah and his companions remained on deck, pacing up and down, or looking pensively at the receding shore, thinking of the kind and fair ones that they had left behind, and wishing themselves back again, all but the poor mute, Balzebar, who sat watching Anjah, with his cloak glittering in the sun, and the white plumes of the golden helmet, which he always wore, fluttering in the breeze. His dull eyes were half dazzled by the light which was reflected on this shining mantle, and he opened and shut them as if basking in the radiance. When night came, and the Prince had divested himself of his golden helmet, with the white plumes, and the golden cloak, Balzebar put them carefully away, in a box which had been prepared for the purpose, and then placing it under his head, for a pillow, slept, as he always did, like a great dog at the feet of Prince Anjah.

About midnight, they were awakened by a terrible noise; it was thunder, mingling with the roaring of the sea. While they had been sleeping, a most terrific storm had arisen, and bidding Balzebar follow him, Anjah rushed on deck. The elements were in a perfect fury, the ship was tossed wildly about on the summit of the waves, and seemed as if going to pieces with the strain. Just then there came the cry that the vessel had sprung a leak, and a boat was hastily let down, into which the Prince and his companions were hurried. Beside the Prince on deck, gazing on all with wonder and dismay, Balzebar had stood, till seeing Anjah descend into the boat, and beckon to himself, he disappeared. Vainly they called him; he could not hear their cries nor answer them. Fearful for their own safety, none of the crew would venture in search of him, and being all in the boat, they pushed off lest they might be swamped beneath the vessel, and were far away before Anjah discovered that Balzebar was not among them. To return for him was beyond all human power. When morning light appeared, the storm had calmed, yet no trace of the vessel could be seen. So they concluded that the ship had sunk, and that poor Balzebar had made his grave ere now in the ocean’s depths. With great exertions, they managed to bend the course of the boat in the same direction whence they came, and after almost incredible toils and dangers, were driven by the wind so near the shore, as to be picked up by a vessel bound for the port, and carried safely to land, where they were welcomed by the King and the Princess Merea, and with as great rejoicing as if they had been restored again from the dead. And now Anjah and Merea seemed doubly dear to each other, and she mourned with him over the supposed fate of the poor harmless and faithful Balzebar. But let us leave the Prince in the kind keeping of the King and Princess, while we see what was in reality become of the lost Balzebar.

When the Prince descended into the boat, and made signs to Balzebar to follow him, the first impulse of the dwarf was to obey his master; but, remembering the box which contained the royal helmet, and the golden cloak, he ran below to secure it. It took him a long time to find his way to the berth, on account of the darkness and the motion of the vessel, and when at last he reached the deck, the boat had gone far away, out of his sight. Not knowing what to do, he sat down in his despair, and fearing every moment that he should be washed overboard by the waves, made preparations to lash himself on to the masts; but ere he did this, to prevent the loss of that, which to his poor, weak mind, was of far more importance than his own life, the golden cloak and the royal helmet and plumes, he placed the latter upon his head, and bound it firmly on; and then taking the cloak out of its folds, fastened it securely round his own neck; it was intended to cover the shoulders, and fall to the knees of Anjah; but it sufficed to envelop the whole form of the dwarf, even to his very feet; and now with this rich shroud about him, he lashed himself to the mast, just in time to be saved from an impending death; for very soon the vessel divided asunder, and the drifting wreck to which Balzebar was attached, was tossed about at the mercy of the waves. How long he remained in this position he knew not; he became insensible from hunger and cold, and would no doubt have soon perished had not some sailors on a vessel espied a glittering object at a distance. They came nearer to it, and discovered that it was a human being clinging to the masts of a ship; and rescuing him from his perilous situation, and seeing the royal garb in which he was arrayed, they conceived that he was some great prince, and treated him in a manner that accorded with such a supposition. He was taken on board the ship, and all treated him with the respect and deference to which his seeming high rank entitled him. When he reached the shore, a proclamation was issued, that a great prince had been found shipwrecked, and had been rescued in his royal robes; his person was also described as being as imposing and grand as were his habiliments, and notwithstanding that he was unable to speak one word, or make any intelligible sound, but kept up a disagreeable sort of muttering, no one seemed to discover that he was at all wanting in intellect, and the proclamation went on and stated his mind and accomplishments to be equal to his person. It was only necessary for him to make his appearance with his golden cloak about him, and the helmet with the white plumes on his head, (and no one could persuade him for one moment to divest himself of them,) to have a crowd of adorers follow in his pathway with shouts and huzzas.

Indeed, such was their adulation, that they bore him about in a sort of triumphal car, and he became the people’s idol. The little sense that Balzebar had ever been blessed with, had nearly all been lost in the hardships and dangers to which he had been exposed, and he allowed himself to be borne about, pleased as a child might have been with a pageant, in which he himself was the principal object.

At last the account of the finding of this wonderful prince in the golden cloak was read at the court, which had long been awaiting the return of Anjah and his suite, and when his fine person, and the helmet with the snowy plumes, were described, his subjects and friends, of course, felt very sure that it was no other than their own prince, and, as the country was not far distant, a cavalcade was dispatched to make certain of the truth, and to attend him to his home. The King was not yet dead, but illness had so impaired his intellect that he had become perfectly imbecile and unfit to govern, and, in the absence of any acknowledged head, the affairs of the State were getting into sad confusion. When the messengers arrived, and were shown into the presence of Balzebar, although at first surprised to find that he could not speak one word to them, yet the moment he arose and displayed his glittering cloak before their eyes they felt ready to fall down at his feet, and acknowledge him their prince. Besides, the royal helmet and the white plumes, would, of itself, have been sufficient to convince them, if there had been no other proof; so, sending a herald before them with the joyful news that it was indeed the long-absent one, they prepared to escort him to his kingdom. The Queen could not leave the palace, on account of the weak state of the King, her husband, but the prime minister and all the courtiers, with crowds of the common people, went to the very outskirts of the kingdom to meet the Prince, and, sending her love and kind messages by him, the Queen sat herself down to await as patiently as possible the arrival of her son. When the prime minister was shown into the presence of Balzebar he started back in astonishment, “Could this be Prince Anjah, this stunted being?” yet here truly was his helmet and his snowy plumes, and then here, too, was his cloak of gold with which the rest of the courtiers were so blinded that they never thought for a moment of doubting that this was their prince indeed, but were as loud and instant in praise of his fine person and noble mien as all others had been before them. Disgusted with their shortsightedness, the prime minister, who was wiser than the rest, and never for a moment supposed that a noble youth like Anjah could have become this deformed and withered thing, whose ugliness no cloak of gold could conceal from him, turned to address the unconscious cause of so much error; instead of an answer came a low, indistinct muttering and mystical signs. The truth flashed upon the mind of the prime minister—this was Balzebar, the poor little idiot mute, and, peering beneath the helmet, which, with the plumes, concealed his countenance, almost as much as the golden cloak did his person, recognised the dull, unmeaning eyes and the expressionless mouth of the poor dwarf. Keeping his discovery in his own breast, and pretending to share in the delusion of the rest, he prepared to join in the procession which was to attend Balzebar to the palace, but, before reaching the gates of the city, under pretence of hastening home to prepare for the better reception of the Prince, he obtained leave to arrive at the palace before the rest, in reality to reveal his discovery to the Queen, and to prepare her mind for the great disappointment that she must feel, in not being able to welcome her son to his home. She wept bitter tears when he told his tale, and she thought of the probable fate of Anjah; but she was a high-souled woman, and bore herself in her misfortunes like a queen. She agreed with the minister that it was far better to encourage the infatuation of the people till such time as the fate of Anjah should be decided, than to allow a person of more energy and address to get the present possession of the throne, from whom it would be impossible to wrest it, if he should still be alive. But their consultation was interrupted by the noisy shouts from without, which warned her of the approach of the procession. She instantly recognised Balzebar, whom she received as if he were indeed her son, and he was installed at once in the Prince’s apartments in the palace, where all did him homage; and as, day by day, he used to show himself in his golden cloak on the balconies, his subjects became more enthusiastic than ever, and would greet him with shouts that rent the very skies. Preparations were immediately made for the ceremony of the coronation of the Prince (for the King seemed to be past all hope of recovering his reason), which, owing to the liberality of the people, who loved to honor their idol, was to be on a larger scale than any ever before known, and the whole kingdom seemed united in a desire to do homage to so great a prince.

About this time one morning a vessel hove in sight, and was spoken, and from the replies it was gathered that in it was the Prince Anjah, with his bride the Princess Merea; that the former had been shipwrecked, and was now returning, with all his train, to his native land. The news spread like wild-fire; great crowds came down to see the vessel; but it was at once determined on all hands that the new comer was an impostor, and that he should not be allowed to land; indeed, so great was the indignation manifested, they fired upon the ship, which hastily withdrew from the harbor out of their reach. What must have been the feelings of Anjah, who, after years of absence and escape from so many dangers, was thus greeted on coming in sight of his native shore, which he had left years before, followed by the blessings of the people. One thing was very certain; it was folly to attempt to land while there was such a feeling of opposition abroad, so they removed out of harm’s way, and the vessel was anchored at a distance, but not out of the view of all, for from the towers of the palace the mother of Anjah was watching the ship, for she, as well as the prime minister, had heard of the arrival of the stranger, and all day had been maturing their plans to restore Anjah to his home and his rights, and were only waiting for the night to seek the vessel, and bring him, his bride, and his companions on shore. Accordingly, as soon as it was dark, one or two devoted servants of the Queen, who were entrusted with the secret, went out in boats till they reached the ship, and there revealed to the Prince the state of things at home, and prevailed on him and his followers to return with them. They were landed as secretly as possible, and gained the palace without detection. Here they were met by the Queen and the prime minister; the former embraced her long-lost son and his bride with the most fervent affection, and they recounted to each other all the trials and dangers to which both had been subjected. It seems that Anjah had remained in the kingdom of Merea’s father till a vessel had been fitted up for him, and, fearing to be again parted from Merea, after the shipwreck, which had so nearly sundered them for ever, Anjah had determined, ere his departure, to make her his wife, so that she might accompany him to his home. When the ship was in readiness the nuptials had been celebrated, and they had set sail. Anjah recounted to his mother and the minister the history of the shipwreck, of the loss of Balzebar, the royal helmet and plumes, and of the golden cloak. The Queen and the minister, in their turn, related to Anjah the subsequent history of Balzebar, the infatuation of the people, and that on the morrow he was to be crowned King with great pomp. They all tried to devise some plan which, if adopted, might bring all things to their true and proper position. At last Anjah thought of a way of revealing himself to Balzebar, for upon a public recognition of him by the poor dwarf himself seemed to hang his only chance of being acknowledged. The night was spent in revolving this scheme, which was heartily approved by all.

On the morrow, early in the morning, a great crowd was assembled before the palace, each striving to be foremost to get a place where they might witness so august a ceremony. All things were prepared on the most magnificent scale; music resounded in peals to the skies; trains of cavalry and infantry, with their glittering arms flashing in the sun, were filling in the courts; in the midst was a platform under an awning, on which was placed a throne prepared for Balzebar, and when all was in readiness he was led forth. As the shouts of admiration went up, the dwarf lolled idly in his seat, and toyed with the golden sceptre that was presented to him; his dull eye wandering without expression over the assembly. Anjah, in disguise, placed himself in front of him, and presently, when directly in his line of vision, raised the cap that shaded his brow, and gave him a full view of his countenance, at the same time fixing on him his eye. Balzebar was transfixed with astonishment for an instant; then, with a cry of joy, rushing forward, tore off the royal helmet and the golden cloak, and threw them, with himself, at the feet of Anjah. A low murmur arose from the crowd as the well known and despised dwarf, Balzebar, was before them, revealed in all his natural hideousness. At this moment the prime minister, who stood near at hand, threw the cloak of gold over the shoulders of Anjah, and placed the helmet with the white plumes upon his lofty brow, and, as they knew their true prince, a shout so triumphant arose from the assembled multitude that it seemed like the breaking of thunder.

No farther notice was taken of Balzebar, but the crown was placed on the head of Anjah, who now brought forward the Princess Merea, and presented her as his spouse, and their future Queen. The whole procession returned to the palace, in which Anjah was received as the reigning prince. The King, though he recovered sufficiently to recognise his son, remained still too weak in mind to admit of his assuming the reins of government, which he quietly resigned to his heir, and passed a quiet and peaceful old age, cheered by the kind attentions of his Queen and his daughter-in-law, the Princess Merea, to whom he became tenderly attached. As for Balzebar, he returned to private life with a much better grace than many others who have been thrown down from a less exalted position. He was ever an intimate of the palace, and was appointed by the King as “Keeper of the Royal Helmet and Golden Cloak,” a post for which he had before showed himself particularly fitted, and to which he thenceforth, as before, remained faithful. He lived long enough to follow the son and daughter of the Prince and Princess as he had done their father and mother before them. As for Anjah and Merea, they ever retained the good opinion and admiration of their subjects, and bequeathed a prosperous and peaceful kingdom to their heirs.

VIII.

THE WONDERFUL BIRD.

ONCE upon a time an old man felt himself to be dying, and, calling his family (consisting of three sons, named Obed, Mozam, and Sadoc) to his bedside, took leave of them one by one, according to the fashion of the east, and, after recommending to their joint protection an aged uncle, who had long been unable to take care of himself, and bidding them be honest and industrious, he addressed them thus:—“My sons, I leave you in possession of this cottage, its furniture, and a small amount of treasure in gold, the fruits of many years’ labor, and I wish you to remain here like brothers, and work together in amity till the death of your uncle, so that he will not be a burden upon either of you; besides this, I am able, by means of the power which has latterly been given me, to foresee future events, and to predict that to one of you will come good fortune through the means of a wonderful bird, who is to be the cause of this great wealth. To which of you it is to come I cannot determine, nor is it of much importance that you should know; it is only required of you each to do his duty, and leave all the rest to Providence.” Obed and Mozam were delighted to hear this good news, each one secretly thinking himself the fortunate one; but poor Sadoc, who was the youngest, and the most dutiful of the three, was so grieved at the prospect of parting with his dear father, who had always been so kind and indulgent to him, that he thought little about this prophecy, as he sat by the bedside, and closed the eyes that should never again look upon him with the light of life and love.

After his father was dead he sat by his corpse till, overcome by weariness (the result of previous long watching), he fell asleep. His brothers had retired to rest early in the evening, and he had supposed them slumbering for hours before; but about midnight the eldest, Obed, who had not undressed himself, hearing the deep, regular breathing of Sadoc, which assured him that he would not easily awaken, stole softly into the room, and, finding the keys, took the box of money from under the bed, and unlocking it, secreted all the gold that he could find in his pockets, and, taking a small bundle of clothes in his hand, started off as rapidly as possible, leaving the body of his father still unburied in the house.

The next morning, when it was discovered that Obed had gone, and that the strong box had been robbed of all its treasure, the second son, Mozam, was loud in his exclamations against the wickedness and ingratitude of his elder brother; but Sadoc felt so disgraced by his conduct he said hardly a word in his grief, but silently went on with the preparations for his father’s funeral, and had him interred with all the appearance of decency and respect possible, in the absence of the first-born son, he who should have been the principal mourner, and at night retired to rest less sad, from feeling the happy consciousness of having done his duty.

And now it was shown that Mozam was in reality no better than his brother Obed, for no sooner was Sadoc fast asleep in his own bed than the second brother arose and let into the door several men who had been waiting outside, and, with their assistance, loaded a cart with all the effects of the cottage that were movable, and drove off with them to the pawnbrokers, who advanced on them a sum of money, with which he made off, as his brother had done before him. When Sadoc arose in the morning he found every article of furniture missing, with the exception of his own and his uncle’s bed, and a few old worthless pots and pans; and his aged relative was seated in the chimney-corner on an old settle, gazing around with a stare of dismay on the scene of devastation. While Sadoc remained shocked, speechless, he heard a sort of chuckling noise, and, looking to see from whence it proceeded, found that an old speckled hen had stolen a nest in some wool that lay under the seat of his uncle, and was there sitting upon a large number of eggs. Here, thought poor Sadoc, is another mouth to feed, and, going into the granary, picked up a few grains of corn and some seeds which he threw to the hen. He then sat down sadly to devise a plan by which he could get bread for himself and his helpless dependent. Had he been alone there would have been no difficulty; the wide world would have been before him, and, with his energy and perseverance, he could soon have achieved a fortune without the intervention of any wonderful bird, and he must now give up any hopes he might have had of finding it. He felt that his father’s last injunction, to take care of his poor idiot brother, was, now that his elders had both proved themselves unworthy of their trusts, doubly binding upon him, so he went out and hired himself to the first master that he could find, as a common laborer, and toiled hard all day for a few scanty pennies, which bought just bread enough to keep himself and his uncle from actual starvation, and a few crumbs for his old hen. After going on a week or two in this way, he came home one night and found the hen had brought out a large brood of chickens. He had now to work harder to procure them a little food also, on which they seemed to thrive; and as spring advanced, and the warm weather came, the old man used to let them out of the coop, and wandered with them about the meadows, where they picked up worms, grasshoppers, and such seeds as they could find, and they grew through the summer so well, that by the time of the Christmas market, they were as plump as partridges, and half of them sold for quite a little sum of money, which he laid by, and sold the eggs of the remaining ones for enough to pay for their food during winter. In the spring, most of them bringing out large broods, he had quite a lot of chickens for the fall market, and eggs to sell all the summer, so that he found after several seasons that he had money enough—the proceeds of his eggs and chickens—to purchase a little spot of rocky ground close beside his cottage, where he meant his uncle should amuse himself, in picking up stones, and planting a few turnips and cabbages. Now we leave him happy and contented, though in poverty so deep, and see what has become of his brothers, who went off to seek the wonderful bird.

On the night that Obed had stolen away with the gold, when he had reached an eminence just beyond, he looked back on the little cottage, where his father’s body lay, and where his brothers were so peacefully sleeping, and his conscience smote him for a moment, for the wrong which he was doing them; but quickly stifling the voice within, he said to himself, “It is now too late to return and replace the money; I should probably be discovered, while doing it, and then the disgrace would be the same; besides I shall, no doubt, be soon able to give them back ten times the value of that I have taken with me; for when I obtain this wonderful bird, which is to make the fortune of one of us, and as I am the oldest, I feel certain that it is my own, I shall come back again, and enrich them all. I should really do them a greater injustice if I staid at home till this money should be spent, and deprived myself of the means of finding it, than by going now, and making a certainty of securing it.” And thus having succeeded in quieting all scruples, he went on as fast as he was able, till after several days, having gone a long distance, he began to proceed on his course more leisurely, without fear of pursuit. And now his mind began to be more and more upon the wonderful bird, and he listened to all the tales of travelers of the birds of Paradise, and of the desert bird, of the owls that hooted dismally through the woods, and the nightingales that cheered the darkness with their melody. Great flocks of birds passed over his head, eastward, and westward, and southward; some of the most beautiful plumage, but none ever stopped in their flight to point him to the treasure that he longed for, but they soared away out of his sight. At last, after a long time, he heard of a bird, which had been known to do many wonderful things. It was said to have it in its power to foretell future events; had pointed out to many persons the places where they found lost money and goods, and was in all respects a most remarkable fowl. “Now,” thought Obed, when stories of its superior powers were recounted to him, “I am coming at last to the object of my desires; this is the bird by whose means I am to realize the great prediction made by my father, and now I can congratulate myself upon the wisdom of the course which I have pursued, in putting myself in a way to find this marvelous creature. I might have staid at home all my lifetime, and have been no richer, though all this fortune (the secret of which this bird no doubt possesses,) stands waiting for me.” So losing not a single moment, he set off to the place where it was being exhibited. He reached an inn at the town that same night, and made so many inquiries concerning it, as to awaken the attention of all present. Among the rest, stopping at the tavern were two men, who seemed disposed to be very sociable with him. They treated him to drink, and professed to feel a great and sudden friendship for him; they threw him completely off his guard, and before he retired to bed he had told them all about the prophecy of his father, and was silly enough to reveal to them that he carried a bag of money with him. After he left the room, they sat whispering together, and laughing about him, and then calling him a great fool, as he was to be sure, they followed him to bed likewise. Now these two very men belonged to the company that were exhibiting the bird, and were stationed at the inn on purpose to gain all the information that they could about the people in the town, so that they could by means of the bird, convey to them such a knowledge of their own private affairs, as to surprise the credulous at once into a belief of its supernatural powers. They had got all the information they wanted concerning Obed, and early in the morning left the inn, to get the conjurer who managed the bird, in readiness to receive him, while he lay dreaming of being in a world where every thing was turned into gold.

As soon as the hour appointed for the performance of its magical tricks had come, Obed presented himself before the bird. It was a macaw, with brilliant plumage; under its feet was a plate, marked like the dial of a clock; it would walk three times around this, and presently, with one of its toes, point to a particular mark, which the exhibiter pretended to interpret and explain. When Obed stood before it, it began to flutter its wings, and showed great signs of agitation, which was said to be because it was going to predict some great fortune to him. This at the offset so prejudiced Obed in its favor, that he was prepared to believe every word that followed. The bird then walked round the dial three times and pointed to a mark; the exhibiter commenced explaining it. At first, he repeated as much of Obed’s plans and history as the two men had picked up the night before, which gave him, in the course of fifteen minutes, such confidence in its ability, that had the bird told him to go to the bottom of the sea in search of the treasure, he would have been almost stupid enough to have done it; but they told him no such thing, for they were not at all desirous of putting him out of the way till they had got possession of his bag of money.

They told him to wait till night came, and then to go alone to a cave, which they pointed out to him, about half a mile distant from the town, through the woods, where he would find an old hermit, who would meet him, and show him where he could find an immense, treasure. They then dismissed him.

Obed was so impatient to come into possession of his wealth, he scarcely ate or drank all day, and as soon as it was dark, set off in search of the cave. After groping about for a long while, and falling down several times, he came at last upon it, and was rather surprised at not finding the hermit in waiting for him; but seeing a torch approach, concluded that it must be he; but was soon much surprised at seeing instead three men, two of whom he recognized as the same who had been the night before at the tavern. They came upon him, and suddenly seizing him, gave him a most unmerciful beating. They then bound him hand and foot, and took from him his money; and after making themselves merry for a while at his expense, left him lying upon the ground half dead, telling him that no doubt the hermit would come and show him the treasure before morning. There he lay all night, moaning and crying, and then came to his mind thoughts of his own undutiful conduct, in leaving his brothers unprovided for, and he felt that he was only justly punished for all his wickedness. He was not only half frozen with the cold, but was in a fright lest some beast of prey should come upon him in this helpless state, all bound as he was, and mangle or devour him; but he was relieved from the worst of his fears in the morning; for a company of sailors passing that way going to their vessel, found him in this pitiable condition; they helped him up on one of their mules, and bearing him to the inn, from whence he had come, made inquiries, concerning the two men, and the owners of the bird, but found they had gone off early the evening preceding; and though great exertions were made by the people of the town, almost all of whom had been in some way or other deceived by them, no traces of them could be found.

Now poor Obed knew not what course to pursue; he had no money, to return to his native home; and even if he had, shame would have prevented his doing so; he therefore accepted the offer of the sailors, that he should join them, and go on board the ship; and while he is passing a life of toil and hardship upon the perilous ocean, let us go back and trace out the history of his second brother, Mozam.

As soon as he left his home, he went directly to a neighboring seaport, and embarked in a vessel that was going to the coast of Africa, as if thinking that the farther he got from his home, the greater would be the chances of his finding the bird of promise. After reaching the land, he roamed about from place to place, till nearly all his money had gone, and yet no richer or wiser. Multitudes of birds of every shape and hue, daily passed before his eyes. At last he fell in with a company who were crossing the desert in a caravan, and many strange sights were seen by Mozam. Nothing awakened his wonder so much as the gigantic ostriches that ran much swifter than horses over the sands. “Surely,” thought he, “what creature is more capable of revealing any knowledge or mystery to man than this—what bird could be one-half so wonderful; this must be the creature that is to exercise such an influence over my fortunes.” But yet nothing occurred, day after day, to confirm his hopes of their being able to assist him, though hundreds of them passed daily before him.

But one day, one of these creatures who seemed very tame, came near the caravan, and allowed itself to be fed, caressed, and petted by the company, which excited much wonder; but above all, they were surprised at finding a string hung with bits of gold and shells about its neck, and no one could explain this strange problem. But Mozam, although he kept his convictions secret, was satisfied in his mind as to the meaning of it. So in the morning before any else were stirring, he stole off to the inclosure where the animal had been confined, and mounting upon its back, he let it go free. It flew off with such speed that he could at first hardly contrive to hold himself on; but by degrees he became accustomed to its motion, and maintained his seat. To say that he felt no fear, while this immense creature was sweeping along with him over the trackless wastes, would be untrue; but he felt quite sure that it was sent as the harbinger of his good fortune, and that the gold around its neck was a sure indication of its being able to conduct him to a mine of that precious metal. So, blinded by ambition to the danger of his situation, he continued on till the ostrich ran with him into a camp of Bedouins, from whom the bird had wandered; a set of wild people, the very last whom Mozam would have desired to have encountered; and from whose mercy he had so little to hope. He looked every moment for them to strike him dead, but instead of this, they only amused themselves in tormenting him to see him writhe, which was almost worse than death. As these people subsisted upon raw flesh and roots, he was almost starved, and as they were constantly fighting with other barbarous tribes, his life was all the time in danger. Here was a fine end to all his ambitious schemes, and he had plenty of leisure and cause to repent his early misconduct. He had brought ruin upon his own head. So miserable was he among these barbarians, he was several times on the point of making way with himself. He continued in this miserable state of existence, till at last, tired of carrying him about with them, these people sold him as a slave to the Barbary States; and here let him remain, while we continue the history of Sadoc.

It will be remembered that with the money that he had saved he purchased a small lot. On digging, it was found to contain a quarry of valuable stone, which he immediately set about getting out in order for sale, and it yielded such a quantity, and sold at so high a rate, that he soon began to be a capitalist, and able to enter into speculations, which, proving successful, he soon found himself above want, and in time became the largest landed proprietor in the country. He now built a fine mansion where his father’s old cottage, which was pulled down, had stood, and married a lady as wise and prudent as himself, and with as noble a family of children around him as one could desire, he enjoyed as great an amount of happiness as generally falls to the lot of man. The fame of his benevolence spread abroad, and he was more respected for his integrity than any other person in the country. Notwithstanding all the honors that were showered upon him, he never forgot his duty to his poor old uncle, who used to sit, as he had ever done, in the warm chimney-corner, the long winter days and nights, and doze away his life with the old speckled hen, who was aged like himself, in her nest beside him.

During all this long time he had heard nothing from his brothers, and often wondered what had become of them, and which of them had found the bird, according to his father’s prediction.

One evening about this time, at the entrance of the town where Sadoc resided, a poor sailor was seen coming wearily along. He sat himself upon a stone, and seemed overcome with his emotions. The tears stole down his cheeks, and he looked as if he could not advance a step further. While he sat there, another traveler, in very nearly the same plight as himself, came up with him. The last comer was a tall, dark man, who seemed to have been bronzed by exposure to the sun. Seeing each other in a like sad condition, they entered into conversation; then at last it came out they were the brothers, Obed and Mozam, one of whom, worn out with voyaging, had left his vocation of mariner to find an asylum in the poor-house of his native town; the other, who had escaped from slavery, and toiled his way along on foot for miles and miles, was coming for the same purpose. They rushed into each other’s arms, and shed tears of pity at the sorrowful case in which each found the other, and then, feeling not quite so lonely, they went on together into the town. They bent their course toward the spot their boyhood had known so well, where the old cottage had stood. In its place was a splendid mansion, at which they gazed for a few moments, and were about to turn away, when a friendly voice hailed them, and arrested their retreating footsteps; and when they said that they were travellers, without food or place of shelter, they were led into an apartment where a warm fire was blazing, and were requested to seat themselves while a servant should procure them some food. Obed started back in amazement as he caught sight of a figure seated in the chimney-corner, and exclaimed, “My poor old uncle, yet alive and here.” Mozam knew him at the same time, and, turning round as the master of the house entered, recognised in him Sadoc, their brother (for he had not changed half as much as themselves), and whispered his discovery to Obed. They consulted apart, and feared to reveal themselves lest he should spurn them on account of their poverty, their former misconduct, and his present grandeur; but ere long their feelings overpowered them; they fell down at his feet, and asked his forgiveness and his pity.

Sadoc, though at first he could hardly believe that this poor worn sailor was his brother Obed, and still less that the dark and haggard man was the once handsome Mozam, yet he was convinced of the truth. He pardoned them freely, and wept tears over their misfortunes, and promised them they should never want a home while he was able to give them one. All night long Obed and Mozam sat by the fireside recounting their adventures to their brother, and at last, when they had told all, Sadoc spake, and said, “How strange that the prophecy of our father should not yet have been fulfilled; the wonderful bird has not been found.” At this the old uncle, who had all the while been dozing in the corner, suddenly roused up, and said, pointing to the old hen beside him, “This is the wonderful bird, and the founder of your good fortune,” and directly relapsed into his stupor. The truth then flashed upon the mind of Sadoc, and when he related to his brother the history of the hen, it was as clear to their minds as to his own, that it was to her that his father’s prediction related, and that this was the bird that was to bring such riches to the family. They saw that honesty, and a careful attention to duty, was more likely to bring a man to prosperity at last, than roguery and selfishness. But, as they had paid so dearly for their early misdemeanors, they were permitted to enjoy rest in the house of Sadoc, where they recovered in some degree from the effect of their hardships and sufferings, and were contented and happy. As for the old uncle, he died shortly after this; and the old speckled hen about the same time departed this life; but Sadoc never forgot his gratitude for her services, though he lived to a great age.