[Illustration: DR. MUMBUDGET'S DOOR-PLATE. ]

THE SOCK STORIES, BY "AUNT FANNY'S" DAUGHTER. 

FUNNY BIG SOCKS:

BEING

THE FIFTH BOOK OF THE SERIES. 

BY

"AUNT FANNY'S" DAUGHTER, THE AUTHOR OF "THE LITTLE WHITE ANGEL. "

 NEW YORK: LEAVITT & ALLEN, 21 & 23 MERCER ST. 1863. 

 ENTERED, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1862, by

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

 JOHN F. TROW, PRINTER, STEREOTYPER, AND ELECTROTYPER, 50 Greene Street, New York. 

 TO

 THAT GENIAL GOOD MAN

 AND PROFOUND PHILOSOPHER, THE REV. DR. S. I. PRIME, I DEDICATE THIS

 BOOK. 

CONTENTS OF VOL. V. 

 PAGE

 STORM STORIES 7

 THE CABBAGES 42

 THE GOLD STONE 75

 THE PHILOSOPHERS' TOUR 108

STORM STORIES. 

FIRST EVENING. 

HOW it did rain, to be sure! Up the long street, and down the longstreet nothing was to be seen but large mud puddles, while the gutterran like a little river, and gushed with a loud sound into the sewermouth. 

That was a rain indeed! but in the warm rooms it was comfortable enough. Books and pretty pictures lined the walls on all sides but one, wherethe large window was, the recess filled with blooming flowers; theysmelt so sweetly!

There, at a table that was covered with a green cloth, sat a literaryman. His head was bowed upon his arms; and when he raised his face, onesaw that he was so sad and pale! The poor literary man was quiteunhappy. 

If one could have crept into his heart (like him who owned the "Galoshesof Fortune"), one would have seen that his thoughts ran, "Ah me! howunhappy I am. I write books about the good and the beautiful, but nobodybuys them; no one cares to read of such things. If I could but tell thema tale, now, something lively or pathetic, like the poet Baggesen or ourown Hoffman, that they all like. Nay, then, what a weary life it is!"and he leaned back in his arm chair, and closed his eyes. 

Suddenly, something came hissing down the chimney into the stove. It wastwo or three rain drops driven in by the wind. Something else appearedto have entered with them, for there was a rustle and breeze in thechamber, and then the literary man heard a whisper quite close to hisear. 

"Thou silly fellow!" cried the wind, for that it was, "to sit in thychamber with closed doors, waiting for the story to come to thee! Nay, then, what is there in thy books half so clever or amusing as what onesees in real life? Listen, now, and I will tell thee what I saw onemoonlight night as I blew over this wide German land. "

THE STORY OF THE WIND. 

IN summer, all the world--of Leipsic--goes out of town, to Baden or Ems. Those who can afford it run over the Alps, to sunny Italy; but inwinter--ah! then it is very different!

One is glad enough, then, to remain at home by the warm stove; or if onegoes out, one must be well wrapped up in furs and cloaks. 

The little boys slide and skate on the frozen river; the poorer folks goabout in sledges, and the rich in splendid sleighs, with white fur robesand capering horses, which have little bells tied to their manes andtails. 

Just such a sleigh as this stood, one bright moonlight night, before thedoor of the Burgomaster Von Geirstein, in the good town of Leipsic. Thewhole family were going in a body out of town, and now the hall dooropened, and forth came the fat and stupid Burgomaster himself, with hisfat and silly wife on his arm, followed by their pretty, blue-eyeddaughter, Matilda, and her lover, Walther Von Blumenwald, a thrivingyoung merchant. Her brother, Max, came last, a merry, good-natured youngfellow, but who, certainly, was not very wise. 

Max took the driver's place; the others seated themselves within thelarge sleigh, and tucked the warm fur robes around them, and then, witha crack of the whip, and a loud huzzah from the young men, the sleighglided swiftly away. 

About five miles from the town, in the midst of the forest, was a largeinn of the better sort, which had lately become a favorite resort of thewealthy who went sleighing in the winter. Balls, even, were given there, and there one got the most delicious mulled wine and Westphalia hams, and all sorts of ale, "Bremen, " "Prysing, " "Emser ale, " even "BrunswickMumme. " To this hotel, then, our party were bound. 

Merrily rang the bells, swiftly flew the sleigh over the frozen snow, and as they passed out at the city gates, the whole party broke into ajoyous glee:

 "Listen, listen, listen to the merry sleigh bells! How they jingle, jingle, ever blithe and ever clear, With a tintinnabulation that so musically wells As it thrills, and it thrills upon the ear! Every dancing little note Seems to gurgle from the throat Of a bird, that in its happy song so eloquently tells The joy it is to bound O'er the cold and frozen ground, To the ringing and the clinging of the bells!

 "Listen, listen, listen to the merry sleigh bells! How they jingle, jingle, as the horses dash along; What a story of our gladness their enticing music tells As it chimes and it rhymes with the song! Such a rollicking delight Bubbles out upon the night As their joy-creating burthen over hill and valley swells. Every voice must join the tune As we skim beneath the moon To the tinkling and the twinkling of the bells!"

The sleigh had now turned out of the high road, and entered the forest. For some time the way lay plain before them, but at length came a fork, where two roads met. 

"Now, then, " exclaimed Max, "which way? Blumenwald, thou hast been toOlè's before--must I take the right hand or the left?"

"Upon my word, I have forgotten!" exclaimed Walther. "It was a darknight when I drove out with my cousins; but, it appears to me, upon thewhole, that we took the right hand road. "

"Well, we can only try, " said Max; "at least, if we don't get to Olè's, we shall have had a merry sleigh ride. "

He shook the reins, and the impatient horses darted off; but, my stars!they had taken the wrong road! Deeper grew the wood; the roughness ofthe path momentarily increased; the trees became so thick that themoonlight no longer penetrated them, and Max at length stopped hishorses once more, and gazed around him in bewilderment. 

"Potstausend!" exclaimed the Burgomaster; "where has the boy taken us? Itell you what, mein sonne, thou hadst best turn back, for we shall neverget to Olè's to-night. "

"And thy sister will take her death of cold!" cried the Frau VonGeirstein, while Walther looked anxiously at the fair Matilda, who onlysmiled up at him, and drew her fur-lined hood more closely about herface. 

Just as they were about to turn back, they heard a sound of sleigh-bellsbehind, and presently a small sleigh approached them, drawn by aspirited horse. 

Max, without more ado, hailed the stranger, and begged him to set them, if he could, on the road to Olè's. 

The new comer bowed courteously to the ladies, and replied, "I shall bemost happy to direct you thither, my respectable friends. In short, then, you follow the road before you for a time, then turn to yourright; next, pursue your way in a southeast direction for a mile; next, turn toward the northwest, and then----"

"What, sir!" interrupted Max, "do you suppose we can go to all pointsof the compass at once? What do you mean by your northwest andsoutheast?"

"Potstausend! is the fellow making fun of us?" exclaimed theBurgomaster. 

"Surely the Herr Von Geirstein cannot suppose I would be guilty of sogreat an impertinence!" exclaimed the stranger. "It is true, the road issomewhat obscure; may I not also have the pleasure of driving you toOlè's?"

"We thank you--you are most kind, " replied the mollified Burgomaster, who never doubted for a moment that his vast importance caused him to beknown to all the world; "but what will become of your sledge?"

"Oh, I don't fear for the sledge--that can remain here among theunderwood; and my horse can be attached in front of yours. "

This arrangement was soon effected, and the stranger, who was so muffledup in fur cap and coat, that scarcely a feature could be distinguished, mounted beside Max, and seized the reins. 

Donnerwetter! how he shouted at the horses! cracking his whip, andcalling them all manner of strange names. "Now, then, pig with a woodenhead! Get along with you, toad of serpents! To the mischief with thewhole team!" till the foam flew on all sides, the iron-clad heels of thesteeds rang like hammer upon anvil on the frozen ground, and sparksscintillated in the air!

Meanwhile, however, the effect of this rapid motion on the Burgomaster'sfamily was anything but exhilarating. Now that the bustle of setting outwas at an end, they one and all began to feel afraid of their strangeguide, and to think there was something more than common in theiradventure. 

"He's a very odd-looking man, after all, " whispered the Burgomaster'swife; "how do we know what sort of a fellow he is, and if he is takingus to Olè's at all? I, for my part, believe he's in league with somerobber band, and we shall all be murdered. "

"Potstausend! it looks very much like it!" exclaimed the Burgomaster, who, although so big a man, was mighty chicken-hearted. "I wish Max hadnot been so confoundedly hasty in accepting his advice. "

"I beg thy pardon there, father-in-law, " returned Walther; "it was thouwho bade him come in. "

The Burgomaster was about to make some peppery reply, when Max suddenlybroke upon the whispered conversation by exclaiming:

"Since you are so good, sir, as to drive us, perhaps you will inform usto whom we are obliged. "

But the stranger, who, before this, had been the noisiest of the party, appeared to have become suddenly dumb, for he answered not a word. 

"Come, sir, " repeated Walther, "tell us who you are. "

No answer. 

Max now half jumped from his seat, exclaiming, "But we insist onknowing, sir, and, furthermore, I should like to know if you are takingus to Olè's or not. "

The stranger turned at this, and with a smile that displayed hisglittering teeth, replied:

"My good people, I am taking you just where you are destined to go. Asto my name, that is my affair. Remember, your safety depends on me;certainly, you had better not provoke me, or----" here his speechsuddenly came to an end, and a fresh series of yells followed to theexcited horses, which all this time were tearing along as though a troopof fiends were in pursuit. 

"It must be the Evil One himself!" cried the Burgomaster, trembling inevery limb, while the ladies screamed and clung together. 

"Not quite so bad as that, I hope, " said Walther, half laughing, yetexcited, and, to tell the truth, somewhat alarmed also. 

"We are all fools if we allow this thing to go on!" shouted Max, who hadsuddenly recovered his spirits. "Walther, thou wilt stand by me. Give methe reins, sir, or hold them longer at your peril!"

As he spoke, he endeavored to seize the reins, while Walther stood up inthe sleigh and grasped the whip. 

All at once the stranger let fall the reins, and as they trailed on theground, he snatched the whip from Walther's hand, gave a sudden leapinto the air, and vaulted on the back of the near horse, where he sat atease, and drove postillion, without their being able to help themselves. 

"Alas, we have no arms!" groaned the Burgomaster; "we may as well beresigned to our fate. Kiss me, my children; you may never kiss your oldpapa again!"

On this, the whole quartette fell to weeping, blowing their noses mostearnestly from time to time, when, just as their grief was at itsheight, and they were fairly sobbing in each other's arms, a sound ofmusic broke upon their ears! The next moment lights gleamed through thetrees, the sleigh took a sharp turn, passed through an open gate, anddrew up before the very door of--Olè's! For, in reality, both roads ledto the inn, although one was much more intricate and less frequentedthan the other. 

The Von Geirsteins were for a moment too much astounded to speak. Thenthe mysterious driver, swinging himself lightly off his horse, anddoffing his fur cap, showing them a face not only handsome, butperfectly familiar to them, exclaimed:

"You see, my dear friends, that it was neither a bandit nor His SatanicMajesty who drove you by the nearest road to a robber's castle or thelower regions, but your very good neighbor, Fritz Von Eisenfeldt, whohas had at once the pleasure and amusement of taking you safe and soundto Olè's, after all!"

As the wind uttered these last words, it whisked up the chimney anddisappeared. The literary man sat upright in his chair with a suddenstart, and opened his eyes wide. 

"Good heavens!" he cried, "have I been dreaming, or has the wind reallyrelated the tale?" He could not at all tell this, but he rememberedevery word of the story, and wrote it on--yes! this very piece ofpaper, where you now read it!

SECOND EVENING. 

THE following evening the literary man could not but think of the adviceof the wind. He went to the window, and looked out on the street, to seeif there might not be a story there. 

The houses opposite were as handsome as on this side of the way, andexactly like them; the gas lamps burned brilliantly, and everythingappeared as genteel and stupid as could possibly be conceived. "There'snot a story to be met with in this part of the town, " thought theliterary man. "I must go out, and see if I can find one elsewhere. "

The snow flakes were rapidly falling from the sky, but the literary manwrapped his warm cloak around him, and went bravely out. It is not everyone who has courage to go out in the snow! that is, the snow atFriedrichshafen. It is sure to be so wet and cold, with large bits oficy hail among it, covering the ground with a slippery compound, thatone cannot step upon without danger of falling. 

However, out he went, and slipped and scrambled along the pavement. Kribbedy, krabbledy, plump! down he sat on a neighbor's doorstep; notwithout exclaiming, "Potstausend!"

As he sat there with a rueful countenance, the thought passed throughhis mind, "If, now, the wind would but give me the least idea how tobegin, I might compose a tale while I wait for a hackney coach, for walkI won't!" and he looked up and down the street, but no coach came insight. 

All at once it was as though a merry voice whispered in his ear--yes, the literary man felt sure that the snow said to him "S-o-o! my goodfriend, the wind has sent thee to me! Fie upon thee, that thou canst notcompose a tale without help, for all thy learning! Well, pay attention, and I will tell thee some of the frolics of my merry cousin, the Frost. Now, listen. "

And the literary man listened with all his ears, and quite forgot thathe was looking for a hackney coach, and that he was sitting on the stepsof his neighbor, the Herr Hartman. 

THE STORY OF THE SNOW, ABOUT CAPTAIN JACK. 

THE children were hurrying homeward on a cold winter's evening, from theforest, where they had been binding fagots. As they scampered along, some one seized upon them from behind and nipped their ears sharply. "Fie, ugly Captain Jack!" cried they; "so thou art at work again! onemay easily see that!" and they would have pursued their spiteful enemy;but he was already gone, and they were now obliged to hasten onward. 

Captain Jack had slipped back to the forest, and thrown himselfstealthily on the ground, laughing to see their discomfiture. The moonshone on the spot where he lay, and then all the dried grass appearedwhite and sparkling, as though it were covered with glistening spray. Atone moment one saw him lying gazing at one with laughing eyes; the next, it seemed as though only the hoar dew rested there, and glittered in themoonlight. 

"Bur-r-r!" growled the north wind, as he flew through the forest. "Hollo! Captain Jack; many thanks for the Ice King's message which thoubroughtest me. Come, wilt thou ride on my back in return?"

"Many thanks!" replied Captain Jack; "I prefer to travel on foot, andamuse myself by the way. "

"Well, be that as thou wilt!" replied the wind, and he flew off in ahuff; for he considered that he had made a very honorable offer, and hadbeen slighted. 

But Captain Jack ran gayly from the forest; taking long strides over thegrass, and sowing it with little white pearls, breathing on the barebranches of the trees, and sheathing them in glittering mail, pouncingslyly on stray wayfarers, and pinching their ears and noses till theyroared again! Then Captain Jack laughed; it sounded like the sharp crackof a pistol through the still air. 

By the banks of the river hares were creeping, and complaining bitterlyof the cold. "Ah!" said they, "if we could but find a warm hole to creepinto, or if we had but thick, curly coats, like the bears!"

"Do you think I have a warm coat to give any one?" quoth Captain Jack, and he breathed on their long whiskers, which now stood quite stiffly. "Oh hute-tute-tute-tu!" cried they, hopping up and down with pain; "ohmy toes! my poor toes!"

Captain Jack also danced with merriment; he had neither soul norfeeling, and couldn't understand being sorry for any one. 

Over the river, the lights of the town were gleaming. They shone likestars that had stooped a little lower from heaven. Captain Jack skippedlightly across the waves rolling so softly from shore to shore, and ashe passed, the water smoothed out under his feet; it was as though someone had placed upon it a thin sheet of glass. 

He ran through the silent streets of the town, where all the world hadgone to sleep, and peered in at many casements. Sometimes he beheld thegood folks dreaming, with the hard, ugly frown still on their faceswhich they had worn when they were awake; and then he slipped into theroom--yes, a key hole was large enough for him to creep through if hechose! and breathed upon them so, that they shivered in their beds, inspite of the warm eider down they had tucked around them. "The windowwas open on a crack, " they would say on the following day; but it needednot a crack for Captain Jack to enter if he thought they deserved it!

In other chambers he beheld lovely little children, with the faces ofangels; or venerable grandsires; with their snowy hair floating over thepillow, and then he drew the most beautiful pictures on the window pane, to amuse them when they should wake. He crept slyly into the larders ofthrifty housewives, and, with a touch, made chickens and ducks hangingthere, quite stiff and tasteless; he skipped to the cistern, andmagically rendered the pump handle immovable; he ran about the streetsand played tricks with the bright gas lamps, and they went out, asthough a puff of wind had blown over them. And, last of all, he ranagainst a stout Burgomaster, returning homeward from a merry supper, andso pinched the end of his red bottle-nose, that it tingled again!

"I'll have you taken to prison, you scoundrel!" roared the Burgomaster;but how was he to find Captain Jack? Only where a large fire was ragingdid Captain Jack shrink away in haste; heat did not seem to agree withhim, for he looked strangely small and shrunken. 

He was now weary of the city, and hastened lightly to the seaside. Inthe harbor ships lay at anchor, ice-bound; and on one of these a youngsailor was keeping watch for thieves; but he saw not Captain Jack comingsoftly on board, and peering over his shoulder to see what was writtenon the paper he held in his hand. A lantern hung from the mast and sheda feeble light on the tear-blistered page, where the pious motherimplored a blessing on her son. As he read, the young sailor also wept;but Captain Jack had no taste for tears. He breathed on the letter, andthe sparkling drops that the reader let fall became beads of ice. Thesailor hastily turned, and for a moment fancied he beheld the brillianteyes of Captain Jack gazing upon him; but the next instant he saw onlytwo glittering icicles, which had formed on the ropes. 

The sea gulls flew in circles round the vessel; late as it was, theystill hoped something might be thrown out. Captain Jack caught them bythe long feathers of their wings, and they tumbled on the deck, andhopped stiffly about. "Creesh, creesh!" cried they; "it is that villain, Captain Jack, who has served us thus! Ugh! how stiff we are!"

Crick, crack! sounded through the air. It was Captain Jack laughing atthem. 

"How merry it is in winter!" he cried. "It is there my uncle, the IceKing, holds his court in the palace at the North Pole. The greaticebergs come crashing to the very door to do him homage, and the whiteyoung lady bears dance the Polonaise so gracefully! We don't spend amoment in silly thought about anything--no! we frisk and caper about, and even my uncle comes down from his throne and hops around, as well ashis age will permit! and there I have such glorious sport in the longmoonlight nights!"

"Bur-r-r!" grumbled the north wind, sweeping by. "Thou hadst betterhurry home, thou silly madcap! The sun is coming, and he is no friend ofthine!"

"Many thanks!" cried Captain Jack again, with a graceful bow; "I see, truly, that my sport is over for to-night!" and he now looked about himwith mischievous eyes, to see if there were not some last trick that hecould play before he fled to his forest cave. But there was no time tolose, for already the round red sun, winking and blinking sleepilybehind his bed curtains of red clouds, was rising from the sea; and, with a sudden leap, Captain Jack flung himself off the ship, andhastened away. 

The river was all covered with ice; the little hares skipped over it; inthe town everybody was bawling for water, and the pump handles were hardand fast; the Burgomaster had his nose tied up in brown paper and warmvinegar; the naughty people went about with cricks in their necks andcolds in their heads; while every withered grass blade, every branch oftree and bush, and every pane in the windows, was covered with thebeautiful, fantastic, glittering handiwork of CAPTAIN JACK FROST!

 * * * * *

As the story ended, the door above suddenly opened, and the Herr Hartmanhimself came out; and certainly looked somewhat surprised at seeing hisgood friend sitting there on the lower step. 

"Why, my dear Herr Ekstein!" he exclaimed. "Is anything the matter?" andhe hastened down the steps. 

The literary man jumped up, and saw the Herr holding out his hand. 

"Nay, then, my good friend!" he exclaimed, "I have been hearing themerriest tale!"

"But come in! come in!" cried the Herr Hartman. "Some of our friends arewith us; let us spend a sociable evening together. "

With a pleased and happy face the literary man entered the house, andthe warm room, where the company were assembled; and, amid peals oflaughter, related both the story of Captain Jack, and that of thesleigh-ride to Olè's, with the deuse himself as driver!

THE CABBAGES;

OR, THE DISCREET WIFE. 

IN a remote part of Swabia there once dwelt a rich peasant, who wasnoted in all the neighborhood for his shrewdness. No one could get thebetter of him in a bargain, and no man managed his farm with suchextraordinary success. His crops always seemed to flourish when thewhole country round was desolated with the blight; his hay was sure tobe got in the very night before a flood swept away the ricks of hisneighbors; his cows gave the most milk, his oxen were the fattest, andhis fields the most fruitful of the whole valley. In short, Wise Peter, for so he was called, became wealthy year after year, in a way whichmade his less fortunate neighbors shake their heads enviously, declaring"that such marvellous good luck could only be obtained by a bargain withthe Evil One, or the assistance of gnomes. " Whenever any of thesestories came to the ears of Wise Peter, he would smile and say, "Ah! whoknows, indeed!" but not a word more would he utter. 

Among his other possessions, Wise Peter owned an immense field, whichwas planted entirely with cabbages. If one stood in the middle andgazed around, nothing but cabbages and more cabbages grew, as far as theeye could reach; and as the fat burghers of the town were all extremelyfond of sauerkraut, these were a source of great profit. 

It happened that Peter had a wife as well known for her folly and emptyhead, as her husband for his sagacity; and as he was rightly named WisePeter, so was she equally well called Silly Catharine. How the two cameto be united was a mystery to every one; for certain it is, that SillyCatharine had nothing to recommend her to a sensible man, but her beingyoung and pretty. 

Now Silly Catharine, who was as witless as she could well be, wasfonder of cabbages than anything else in the world. She ate sauerkrautfor breakfast, cabbage soup for dinner, fried cabbage for supper, andboiled cabbage for a noonday treat. Not even the constant scoldings ofher husband, or the jeers of the neighbors at her folly, could distressher in any great degree, if she had only plenty of cabbages. 

One morning, Wise Peter loaded his wagon with grain and started off tosell it at the distant market town, a good day's journey to and from thevillage. "Now, Catharine, " he said to his wife as he departed, "I wantyou to keep your wits about you, such as you possess, while I am gone;therefore attend to me. You must give orders that the men reap thewheat in the large field, take care that the young turkeys do not getamong the brambles, and, above all, see that no one enters the littlestoreroom. They are going to tax every one who is worth five hundredguilders and over; and as I don't choose to give my hard earnings forthe support of a parcel of lazy nobles and a useless court, I havehidden all the money bags there; therefore, be careful that nobody knowsof it but yourself. " So saying, Peter mounted his wagon and drove off. Silly Catharine looked after him as long as he could be seen, and thenwent back to the kitchen, determined to show her husband how clever shehad become. 

"Shall I go and tell the goose girl to hunt the turkeys into the coopfirst?" thought she; "or shall I put on the cabbage to boil? I think Iwill set my cabbage on first; it will take but a moment, the turkeys aresafe till then. "

So she went to the larder, got out a fine large cabbage, and hung thepot over the fire, that it might boil quickly. The steam of the cabbagecooking ascended to her nose with a delicious perfume, and at last, whatwith hanging over the pot enveloped in steam, and the heat of the fire, she felt very drowsy, and falling into her chair, was soon soundlyasleep. She had not slept long before in came the goose girl, whosebusiness it was to take charge of the fowls of all sorts, crying out, "Oh, mistress! mistress: the turkeys have got among the brambles, andcannot get out!"

"Mercy upon us!" exclaimed Catharine, springing up and wringing herhands; "what will Peter say to me! He will, doubtless, break his stickover my shoulders. If it were not for the cabbage on the fire, I shouldcertainly throw myself from the window!" So saying, she ran out into thefield, but too late; the little turkeys were all in the very middle of abramble bush, which had tangled in their feathers, until it wasimpossible to get them out; beside which, a fox had entered the barnyard in the goose girl's absence, by the gate, which she had carelesslyleft swinging open, and carried off the biggest and handsomest Polandrooster, that Wise Peter valued even more than the turkeys. About thislast loss, however, she said nothing, hoping that her mistress wouldn'tremark it. This, indeed, proved to be the case; for, without noticingthe absence of poor Chanticleer, Catharine burst into tears, exclaiming, "What is to be done? The only way is to cut the bush down. "

[Illustration: THE FATE OF POOR CHANTICLEER. ]

As she spoke, she seized an axe, and with one blow felled the bush tothe ground. But what was her horror to find, as she let fall the axe, that she had also struck off the heads of every one of the turkeys!

"Oh heavens! what a misfortune!" cried Catharine; "I am the most unluckywoman in the world! _Now_ Wise Peter will not leave a whole bone in mybody! Alas, the turkeys would have sold for eight skillings apiece whenthey had grown fat and big! The only thing that consoles me is, that Ishall have such a famous supper ready for him. When he tastes my finecabbage soup, I am sure he must forget to be vexed!" There were still, however, the bodies of the turkeys to see after; so she took out herneedle and thread, sewed the heads of the turkeys on their necks, andset them upright in the coop, that they might look as though they werestill alive. 

After this precious piece of cleverness, Silly Catharine returned to thehouse to see how her cabbage came on. But she had been gone so long thatthe water in the pot had all boiled away, and the cabbage was burning onhard and fast to the bottom of the pot. "Why, bless me! where can thewater have gone to?" cried Silly Catharine. "It must have all drawn upchimney! Nevertheless, it would be a pity to lose it; full of thecabbage juice as it was, it might well have been made into soup; andWise Peter has told me a hundred times never to waste anything. I willget something to let down the chimney and see if I can dip it up. "

So saying, she began to look about for a rope long enough to reach downthe chimney; but she couldn't find one. All at once her eye fell on thebucket standing outside the well. Joyfully rushing to it, she cut therope, and dragging the bucket after her, scrambled out on the roof, andbegan letting it down the chimney. While she was thus engaged, a poorlittle frightened swallow, who had built its nest there, suddenly flewup the chimney and darted right in her face. Silly Catharine was so muchfrightened, that she gave a loud scream and let go of the rope. Thebucket, of course, fell into the middle of the fire, and in a twinklingwas burnt to cinders. Down from the roof, and into the kitchen, rushedCatherine, but too late; nothing save the iron hoops now remained of thebucket. 

"What shall I do?" cried Silly Catharine. "Not an hour passes but somenew misfortune occurs. Alas! I am no longer able to draw water for mysoup! but stay, I think of a way!" So saying, she took the pot from thehook, tied a rope to the handle, let it down the well, with the cabbagestill in it, and when it was filled carried it back to the house, andhung it over the fire. 

Soon afterward the dairy maid went to draw some water for dinner. Shecould not find the bucket; so she let down a milk pail instead; butwhen she came to taste the water, she tasted also the flavor of thecabbage, and ran to her mistress, calling out, "Why, mistress, who hasbeen meddling with our fine well? It had once the best water in theneighborhood, but now the flavor is precisely that of a greasy, horriblecabbage!"

"Nonsense!" cried Silly Catharine, with an air of contempt; "it is allyour fancy. Don't tell me that water can taste of cabbages!" Her heartbeat with affright, however, and as soon as the servant maid had leftthe room, she ran in great terror to the wine cellar. "What the servantsaid must have been true, " thought she; "and Wise Peter will neverforgive me when he finds out that I have spoilt the well. I will, therefore, pour some wine into the water, to take away the taste of thecabbages. " So saying, she seized one of the wine barrels, and in thestrength of terror she managed, with great difficulty, to push it up thecellar stairs, and roll it through the kitchen out to the well. Then sheremoved the spile and tilted the cask forward; when out streamed atleast thirty gallons of the finest Tokay down the well!

Having done this, Silly Catharine hid the barrel away with greatprecipitation; and, determined to leave nothing else undone, she calledthe reapers and bid them go directly to the large field and reap thewheat. Then she went back, and began eating her dinner, saying, "Thankheaven, I have a good dinner to sit down to, at least; there are alwayscabbages enough!"

Meanwhile, the reapers made ready to go a-field; and before they went, one of them drew a bucket of water to carry with them. But no sooner hadthey tasted the water, than they cried out, "'Tis wine! the finestwine!" and scarcely able to believe their senses, they drew up bucketafter bucket of this new liquor, drank till they became drunk, and thentumbled senseless among the wheat; for it happened that the well wasvery low, and what they drew was nearly all wine. While they lay there, a violent hail storm came on, and in an hour's time the whole of thewheat was beaten to the ground, drenched, crushed, and ruined. 

Unconscious of this fresh misfortune, Silly Catharine prepared her soupfor supper, and then, having finished her work, she sat down in thefront porch and began to knit, feeling as if at last all her troubleswere over. Presently the gate was opened, and a man entered the garden. It was he who was appointed to gather the tax, and knowing Wise Peter tobe well off, it was to his house that he first came. 

"Oh, you are very much mistaken if you think I will pay your outrageoustax!" cried Silly Catharine. "No, no! Wise Peter would know better thanthat, and his wife will not be behind hand! He told me before he wentthat he had no money to pay, and if he had, he wouldn't give it tosupport your lazy nobles; so be off with you!"

While Catharine had been making this tirade, the tax gatherer, to whomshe had unwittingly given a valuable hint, hit upon a new plan by whichto secure his guilders. So as she paused, out of breath, he exclaimed, in a contemptuous tone: "There is no use in making such a noise, goodwoman; I see plainly that I was a fool to suppose the owner of thisbeggarly house was worth five hundred guilders. Five kreutzers would bemuch nearer the mark!"

"What! do you dare to call the house of Wise Peter beggarly!" criedCatharine in a rage; "beggarly, indeed! you could never get such a fineone if you live a thousand years. "

"And I repeat that it is a beggarly house, " said the other; "with apoor, miserable family in it. "

"You don't believe me?" screamed Silly Catharine; "well, then I'll showyou what you call poor; a pretty thing, indeed, that you should say weare a beggarly family!" And, bouncing from her seat, she led the taxgatherer to the store room, and dragging the money bags from theirconcealment, she opened them triumphantly, saying, "There, what do youcall _that_?"

"At least a thousand guilders!" exclaimed the tax gatherer, astonishedat seeing so much more than he had expected. "So, you refuse to pay thetax when you have all this money in the house! I confiscate it all inthe name of the king, and you may think yourself lucky if you and yourprecious husband (who must be wise, since he married such a wife asyou), don't get thrown into prison besides. " So saying, he snatched upthe bags of guilders, while Catharine stood staring at him in mutehorror, and in an instant was out of the house, and gone on his way. 

Nearly stunned with this new mishap, Catharine burst into tears, and randown stairs crying, as though her heart would break. "What is to becomeof me, " she sobbed, "when Peter comes home? He will certainly kill mefor having shown the tax gatherer the money! Nevertheless, what could Ido? It was impossible to have people say that Wise Peter was a beggarlycreature--I could not allow that!" and, a little re-assured, she driedher eyes and went to taste the soup. It was nearly done, and tasteddeliciously. "Ah!" cried Silly Catharine, "the soup is better thanusual! It quite repays me for all to think that we still have the finestcabbages!"

In the mean time, one of the reapers, who had drank less wine than theothers, woke up sober, and as soon as he found he could stand on hislegs, he ran post haste to the village to relate the wonderful tale. Theplace being small and the gossips many, it was not half an hour beforethe whole population knew the extraordinary occurrence that had takenplace. Even the curé, the magistrate, and the doctor rushed into thestreet to hear the news, and a pretty uproar there was. "Said I nottruly that Wise Peter was in league with the Evil One?" exclaimed one, "for only thus can the miracle of a spring of wine be accounted for. ""True, true!" cried the listeners; "a wizard he must be; and that of aright dangerous sort!"

Just at this moment, the wagon of Wise Peter was seen coming along theroad. The impatient villagers could not wait for him to approach them, but rushed toward the wagon and surrounded it on every side. "How now, wretched wizard!" they one and all shouted; "dare you look us in theface when we have found you out in your sorceries? Away with you toprison!" and, so saying, they laid hold of Wise Peter, dragged him outof the wagon, and bore him toward the magistrate. In vain the wretchedman begged for some explanation, declared a hundred times over that hewas no wizard, but an honest peasant; they only shouted, tauntingly, "Apretty story for a man who turns his well springs into the finest wine!no wizard, indeed! say, rather, a wizard of the worst kind!"

With these words, they hauled him before the magistrate, where, again, the reaper repeated his story, adding, by way of proof, "If you don'tbelieve me, go and see the other reapers; there they lie drunk, where Ileft them. "

"You hear what this honest man says, " said the magistrate. "We have longsuspected you of sorcery, but this proves the matter at once. Either youmust forfeit a hundred guilders, as ordained by law in such cases, oryou must go to prison. "

Almost distracted, Wise Peter exclaimed, "You have seen fit, worthymagistrate, to accuse me of a crime of which, so far from being guilty, I know nothing whatever. When I left home this morning, I swear thewater was as fresh and pure as possible. I know that some envious peoplehad long accused me of practising black arts, and if Industry andPrudence are black arts, I am certainly guilty; but in this matter ofthe water, I am as innocent as my own wife!"

"All this is very fine, " answered the magistrate; "but it happens thatthe bewitched water can be produced;" and turning to the reaper, hesaid, "Have you any of this water about you?"

"Yes, worthy magistrate, " replied the reaper; "as I came away from thefield, I filled my flask with what was left, and brought it with me. "

The flask was handed to Peter, and no sooner had he tasted it, than hefell back aghast, exclaiming, "Good heaven, it _is_ wine! and very likeTokay!"

"What! you confess it yourself?" cried the magistrate. "Don't hope, then, for mercy! You shall now pay two hundred guilders, or go to prisonfor a year!"

"Mercy! mercy!" cried the unfortunate man, falling on his knees. "Consider my family, worthy magistrate; do not disgrace them by sendingme to prison! I see the water has been changed, but not by me; andthough you will not believe me, I can solemnly assure you, with perfecttruth, that I am innocent. "

"Pay or go to prison!" answered the magistrate inexorably. 

With many tears and groans, the unlucky Peter drew a purse full ofguilders from his pocket and paid over the whole proceeds of his sale ofwheat, which only amounted to a hundred and five guilders; themagistrate remarking that he would let him off with that if he wouldsolemnly swear never to practise the black art any more, and tounbewitch his well as speedily as possible. This Peter did, in despairof bringing them to reason, and having been thus severely punished for acrime he was utterly guiltless of, he mounted his wagon again, and rodehome in a state of mind that can better be imagined than described. 

When he reached his own home he rapped on the window as usual, to warnhis wife, and Catharine rushed out to meet him, and, throwing her armsround his neck, cried, "Oh, Peter, I am so glad you have returned; thegood cabbage soup is all ready for you; so come right in and eat it!"

"Eat!" exclaimed Wise Peter, "how can I swallow a mouthful when I am sooverwhelmed with misfortune?"

"What! you also!" said Catharine; "alas! what has happened?"

[Illustration: PETER'S RETURN HOME. ]

With accents that trembled with rage and grief, Wise Peter told howhe had been treated in the village; but he had scarcely made an endbefore Catharine, bursting into tears, exclaimed, "Oh, what will becomeof me! Have mercy, Peter, for it was I who poured the wine down thewell!"

"Poured wine down the well!" cried Peter, starting in astonishment;"then, for heaven's sake, why did you do that?"

"Because, " sobbed his wife, "the water tasted of cabbages!"

"Of cabbages!" repeated the peasant, in greater surprise than ever, "andwhat made it taste of cabbages?"

"Because I dipped up water in the cabbage pot, " cried Silly Catharine. 

"And where was the bucket?" asked her husband. 

"I burnt it, trying to dip the water out of the chimney, that had beendrawn up from the cabbage pot!" gasped Catharine, feeling thateverything must now be told, since she had begun. 

Wise Peter took two or three strides across the room in silence; then, making a violent effort to speak quietly, he said, "And why, Catharine, since you supposed that water could be drawn up a chimney, did you leavethe pot unwatched?"

Almost in a scream, Silly Catharine broke out, "Because I was sewing onthe turkeys' heads that I struck off cutting down the bramble bush!!"

"Now, was ever any man tormented with such a fool of a wife!" shoutedPeter, almost beside himself with rage. "I could beat you with pleasurefor acting so witlessly, but that, alas! would not pay for what you havelost for me this day. A hundred and five guilders of my precious moneyhave I been made to pay for your foolery, besides losing my Tokay wine, my field of wheat, and all my fine young turkeys! at least a hundredguilders more!"

"Oh, and that's not the worst!" cried Catharine. 

"What! is there any more to come?" exclaimed Peter, almost out of hissenses. 

"Yes, " stammered Silly Catharine; "the man came here to gather the tax, and I told him, as you said, that you were far too clever to pay it, andthat he would get nothing more out of me. Then he said you were abeggarly fellow, not worth five kreutzers, and, of course, I couldn'tallow that; so I showed him the guilders in the store room, to provethat he spoke falsely, and he took every one of them! I am so sorry, butnever mind, there is excellent cabbage soup for supper!"

At this, Peter could restrain himself no longer, and falling upon SillyCatharine, he trounced her well with his stick, until she cried out formercy. "There!" he said at last, throwing down the stick, "you havebeen well punished, though not half enough to pay for the mischief youhave done. "

Silly Catharine dried her eyes upon her apron, and with a reproachfullook exclaimed, "Still you have beaten me, Wise Peter, for what I couldnot help; for, if the turkeys had not been killed, I should never havestayed away so long; if the water had not flown up chimney, I should nothave burnt the bucket; and if the well had not tasted of cabbages, Ishould not have thrown in the wine. And, above all, dear Peter, if thatabominable man spoke ill of you, how could I, your wife, avoid showinghim that he lied? Besides, the case is not so bad; we have lost nearlyall, it is true; but, thank heaven, we still have delicious cabbages!"

In spite of himself, Wise Peter could not help bursting out laughing. "After all, Catharine, " he exclaimed, "I see you did not intend doing meany harm; if you are a fool, that, certainly, is not your fault;therefore, in future let us never be separated. Come, you pretty goose, let us go and eat cabbage soup. "

So saying, Wise Peter kissed his wife's blooming cheek, and led her intothe house. They sat down with contented hearts to the nice, smokingsoup, and after supper walked out among the spreading cabbages. 

THE WONDERFUL LEGEND OF THE GOLD STONE. 

IN those far away times when the world was yet in its baby clothes, andpeople were not as wise as they are nowadays, there dwelt in the goodtown of London a poor tailor's apprentice named Bartlemy Bowbell. Hemight be called poor in a double sense; for not only was he such a lazy, idle fellow that he scarcely ever took a stitch, and so seldom had acopper of his own, but he was a miserable workman, and, like anorgan-grinder's monkey, or a blind man's dog, obtained more kicks thanhalfpence. 

In the same room with him were several other tailors; who sang togetherone of two tunes as they stitched. If they were paid for every day'swork, be it much or little, they sang, "By the d-a-y! by the d-a-a-y! bythe d-a-a-a-y!" and the needles went in and out as slowly as the coachesof a funeral procession; but if they were paid for every garment theyfinished, then they sang, "By the job! by the job! by the job!" and theneedles stitched away like an express train! Bartlemy, however, crossedhis legs, put his thimble firmly on, and stitched briskly for fiveminutes; then his attention would wander, and presently, dropping work, thimble, shears, and needle, he began singing to himself, "Oh, if I were only possessed of my riches, I never would sew on a pair of old breeches! Thimbles and thread! Buttons and braid! Oh, who would be bound to this rascally trade?

 "If money I had, I'd be free from all care, And what _master_ must _make_, _I_ should have but to _wear!_ Needles and pins! Shears and cloth ends! When the work's ended then pleasure begins!"

"What's that you're singing about riches?" cried his master, sharply;"Riches, forsooth! you will die in the poor house, I can tell you, ifyou don't stitch more diligently! Come, sew away! sew away!" So saying, he gave him a good thwack with his yard stick, to make him continueworking. 

[Illustration]

All the beatings in the world, however, could not thump out of BartlemyBowbell a belief that had got into his head that he should one daybecome rich and famous, through the agency of a wonderful jewel calledthe Gold Stone. As I said, people, in those days, were by no means sowise as they are at present, and so it fell out that the most learnedphilosophers of that olden time believed as firmly as did the tailor'sapprentice in the existence of this Gold Stone, the peculiar property ofwhich was, that if it came in contact with any common metal, it changedit, on that instant, into gold. Now, this story had come to the ears ofBartlemy Bowbell, and by one of those odd cranks that not overwisepeople sometimes take in their heads, he was perfectly persuaded that, sooner or later, he was fated to find the miraculous gem. 

Matters soon rose to such a pitch, as may easily be seen, that hismaster finally turned him out of doors, saying "that he ate more than hewould ever earn. "

"Very well, master, " quoth Bartlemy, "I don't regret your goose andcabbage!" and having said this, he ran away as hard as he could, dropping one of his slipshod shoes as he went along, with his masterpursuing after, yard stick in hand, whom, however, he soon contrived tooutstrip. 

[Illustration]

As he had not earned a penny during the week, he was entirely withoutmoney, and nobody would lodge a shabby apprentice with only one shoe, for nothing. He wandered on until he was clear of London and in the openfields, begging of those he met on the road, but who always replied tohis solicitation, "Why don't you go to work, you lazy 'prentice?" forthey knew what he was, because he wore a 'prentice's flat cap. Worst ofall, night now came on, and Bartlemy was at last compelled to lie downbeneath a tree, where he soon fell asleep. The moon rose high, and stillBartlemy snored, when, all of a sudden, he was roused by a smart blow onthe shoulder from what he could have sworn was a yard stick. 

"Needles and pins!" cried Bartlemy, sitting up in haste; "what's that?"

"Bartlemy Bowbell, " croaked a strange voice, "look at me. "

Bartlemy looked round, and to his extreme terror, saw standing besidehim a being whom he could only suppose to be a goblin. He was not morethan four feet high, with very bow legs, as though from a constant habitof tucking them up on a tailor's shop board; his clothes, fashioned fromodd bits of velvet and cloth such as tailors call "cabbage, " or, as weshould say, the pieces of the customers' stuff left from theircoats--were trimmed with thimbles for bell buttons; on his head was atailor's cotton nightcap, with a long tassel, and hanging at his waistwere an immense pair of shears, and a pincushion bristling with needlesand pins. In one hand he carried the yard stick with which he had struckthe luckless 'prentice, and in the other a tailor's goose, or flat iron. 

His face was expressive of the most jovial good humor, though it couldnot be called handsome, for his nose was flattened as though he were inthe habit of trying his iron against the end; his hair seemed composedof long and short threads mingled together, and he had an abominablesquint, as though he were always endeavoring to see how a coat set atthe front and back, the collar and tail at the same time. 

"Bartlemy, " said the goblin again, "what's the matter with you?"

"Matter, your worship?" gasped Bartlemy. 

"Come to the point, " said the goblin, severely, accidentally swinginghis pincushion against Bartlemy's legs at the same time, and prickinghim most atrociously. "You are everlastingly growling and grumbling, instead of working at your trade like an honest tailor, and richlydeserve to be thwacked with the yardstick every morning by way ofbreakfast; but never mind, I choose to help you; so say what you want, quick. "

"A-and who might your worship be?" asked Bartlemy, with a cold shudder;for he felt desperately afraid that he had got hold of Old Boguey orOld Nick--it was not much matter which. 

"That's none of your business, " said the being; "but if you must know, Iam Snippinbitz, the patron of the tailors. "

"O lord, your worship, you don't say so!" stammered Bartlemy. 

"That's a fact!" returned the goblin. "Come, out with it; what can I dofor you?"

Bartlemy scratched his head and took off his cap, looked into it, foundno words there, and put it on again; and finally, with a bow that nearlytoppled him head over heels, and a kick up of his foot that sent hisremaining slipper flying into the nearest mud-puddle, he managed tosay:

"Please, your worship, I want to find the Gold Stone. "

The goblin burst into a discordant laugh on hearing this; then, suddenlybecoming serious, he said:

"Well, that's a sensible request, Bartlemy, and a modest one, considering the circumstances. Never mind, I have taken a fancy to you;your wish shall be accomplished. See here. "

With these words Snippinbitz put his hand in his pocket, and pulled outa magnificent jewel, as it seemed to Bartlemy. It was of the mostresplendent purple color imaginable, and sparkled all over with flecksof gold, which seemed to swim beneath the surface. Nothing could lookmore gorgeously beautiful as the astonished tailor held it up in themoonlight; yes, there could be no doubt of it; the mysterious, theunattainable Gold Stone was really his!

"Now, Bartlemy, attend to me, " continued the being. "The Gold Stone isyours, but under certain conditions, which must be faithfully compliedwith, or no gold! First, you must return to London to-morrow, seek outyour old master, and ask him to employ you as a regular workman. Youwill find yourself able to sew as well as the best, through myassistance, and you must employ this power diligently on the work hegives you to do. I warn you, however, that you must keep the secret ofthe Gold Stone from everybody; and, in order that you may do so, youmust never take it out of your pouch until you are safe in your ownchamber. Secondly, when you receive your wages, place the money directlyin the pouch containing the Gold Stone, and do not look at it until yougo to bed. Then you will find the copper turned into silver, and thesilver into gold. But if you count the money first, it will never be anydifferent. Thirdly, in a year's time from to-night, meet me at thisspot, and tell me how you have prospered. Will you keep these conditionsfaithfully?"

"Ye-y-es! your worship!" stammered the 'prentice. 

"Then, how are you, Mr. Gold Stone!" exclaimed the goblin, in advanceof the age; and, with an outrageous wink, he treated Bartlemy to anotherwhack with the yardstick, and vanished. 

The blow struck our tailor insensible; and when his eyes again unclosedit was broad daylight. For a moment he stared about him, wondering howhe came to be there; then, remembering the extraordinary events of theprevious night, he hastily felt in his pouch, and drew out themiraculous jewel. It flamed in the sunlight like a bright diamond eye, and Bartlemy almost fancied he caught it winking at him. This idealasted but a moment, and having taken a long and delighted stare at themuch-desired Gold Stone, he replaced it carefully in his pouch, andstarted straight for London. As he passed the newly-opened bakers'shops, he could not help wishing that he had a half-penny in the world, so that he might change it into a crown on the spot, and buy a basketfulof hot rolls; but as the Gold Stone was not warranted to _make_ money, he was forced to take it out in wishing. Fortunately one of the bakers, seeing him gaze hungrily at the hot bread, had the kindness to toss hima large roll; and, munching this, he arrived at his master's shop. 

After the way in which he had been turned out, he hadn't much hope ofgetting in again, but, afraid of disobeying the goblin's injunctions, he entered with as much courage as he could muster, and found the othertailors stitching away as usual, while his master cut out a coat. 

Bartlemy took his cap humbly off, saying, "Please, master, if you willemploy me as a workman now, I think I can please you. Do try me; I willbe industrious; indeed, I will. "

"Oh, " grumbled the master tailor, "sleeping out in the fields and goingwithout supper and breakfast has done you good, has it? Well, take thiscoat and sit you down; but I warn you, beforehand, that if you are notmore industrious than usual, I will lay my yardstick over your shoulder, and clear you out again. "

Bartlemy took the work, and having planted himself on the shop-board[A]in his favorite place, near a window, he put on his thimble, threadedhis needle with a grand flourish, and began to stitch away for dearlife. He sewed faster and better than he had ever done before, andfound, to his joy, that the goblin's promises had begun to be fulfilledin reality. But bad habits are not to be conquered as one would pull upweeds: though both must be torn up by the roots, one might weed threegardens in the time it takes to destroy one fault; and so, withoutreally meaning it, Bartlemy at last began to ply his needle lessbriskly; his thoughts wandered; he took a stitch that was three timestoo long, then another in a wrong place, a third and fourth all askew, and finally the work came to a dead stand-still. But, thimbles andthread! what happened? The instant his hand stopped, a long yellowyardstick came flying through the window, with no one holding it, hithim such a thwack on the shins that he roared again with the pain, andinstantly vanished. 

"Why, what's the matter?" asked the other tailors, startled, as theywell might be. 

"Matter!" cried Bartlemy. "Why, didn't you see that--that horribleyardstick coming at me?"

At this they all laughed at him for a fool; for nobody but our tailorcould perceive this terrific weapon, which was doubtless invisible tocommon eyes. His conscience whispered, however, that his punishment wasa reminder from the friendly goblin, and accordingly he set to work withrenewed diligence. After a while, lost in dreams of his approachingwealth, he stopped stitching again, when, like a flash, in came theyardstick, touched him up with a vengeance, and vanished as before; andso it continued all the time he was sewing: the watchful yardstick wouldonly allow him to stop to thread his needle or turn the work. 

When he had stitched all the seams, he laid the coat on the table andheated his goose, that he might smooth them. He took care to posthimself a good way from the window, in order to get rid of the ferociousyardstick; but the goblin was not to be baffled thus. The moment hestopped ironing and began to count the flies on the ceiling, the gooseseemed to carry his hand up with it--irresistibly--to the end of hisnose, and gave it a good scorching! This was no joke, I can tell you, and in a very short time Bartlemy began so to dread the visits of histwo enemies that he never left working a minute, and his needle dashedalong like magic. By sunset the coat was done, and sewed in a mannervastly superior to the other tailors, who looked at him with enviouseyes. "What! finish a whole coat in one day?" they cried; "we nevercould do so well! Goose and cabbage! friend Bartlemy! you must have theassistance of some fairy!"

Bartlemy made no answer, but taking the coat in hand, carried it to hismaster, who viewed it in the greatest astonishment. Never before had acoat been made in a single day, and stitched, too, more finely thananything he had ever seen; but, not wishing to raise his late'prentice's ideas of himself, he merely grumbled out, "For a wonder youhave done your work this time; so now take your wages, and be sure tocome early Monday morn. "

As he spoke, he slipped a couple of coins into Bartlemy's hand, who, remembering the goblin's words, put them into his pouch without so muchas looking at them. 

Now, no doubt my clever little readers have guessed quite readily thetrue solution of this mighty mystery; but to the simple Bartlemy thereality of the Gold Stone's magic power was placed beyond a doubt when, on reaching his chamber and striking a light, he found, instead of thefarthing and penny which had always been his weekly payment, a crown andsixpence. 

"Huzzah! huzzah!" he cried, fairly jumping for joy; "my beautiful GoldStone is doing its work bravely. " He kissed the stone in his delight, and went to bed, to dream of becoming a master tailor, and makingclothes for the king. 

The following Monday he repaired to his master's shop the first of anyone, and everything happened as on the former time; except that, beingmore diligent at his work, the goose and the yardstick were lessfrequent in their favors, and he now made a coat and a vest in the day. His master really knew not what to think; but at least so good a workmanwas not to be lost; so he kept his surprise and suspicions to himself, and made up by heaping more and more sewing on the luckless Bartlemy. 

It didn't make any difference, however; his needle almost seemed to workby itself, and the sewing was finished by sunset; so that, really, thegood-natured goblin was the original sewing machine, and no thanks toMessrs. Grover and Baker. At the end of the week his master paid him acrown and a shilling; or, as Bartlemy believed, a farthing and a penny;the next week a guinea, and the week after a guinea and a crown, whichwas the highest wages ever paid. 

So things went on, until Bartlemy had earned enough to make quite afortune in his eyes; ten whole guineas lay glittering in the old nightcap where he kept his savings, and the tailor thought he might now setup for a gentleman. So he bought cloth, made himself, in secret, a finecloak, coat, and breeches, and in these jackdaw adornments paradedabout the streets a whole morning, trying to appear an idle finegentleman. At last he strutted into the best inn, ordered a grand dinnerand a bottle of wine, and feasted like a lord. 

But his time was coming. The watchful goblin, though not at his side, knew perfectly well what he was about, and soon led him to betray hisquality most fatally. When the bill was brought him, it was so long andso tremendous that Bartlemy sprang up in a rage, crying out:

"_Thimbles and thread!_ Do you call this a decent charge for your paltrydinner?"

The landlord stared at him in astonishment; then, suddenly burstinginto a loud laugh, he cried, "Why, gentles all, this fine nobleman isnothing but a tailor! ha! ha!" and he put his hands to his fat sides andshook with laughter. 

"Be silent, sirrah!" thundered Bartlemy; "or _I'll break my yardstickover your shoulders_!"

"Ha! ha! only hear what he says!" laughed the landlord. "A miserabletailor. "

"If you do not stop your impertinence, I will _shear off your ears likecloth clippings_!" retorted the angry tailor. "Goose and cabbage! man;you shall not trifle with me!"

On this the landlord and waiters turned him bodily out of the house, after seizing upon all his remaining money; and the moment he was inthe street, the knowledge of how he had betrayed himself broke upon hismind. Mortified and miserable, he hurried home, determined, after this, to stick to his trade and play fine gentleman no more. 

The year at last drew to a close, and Bartlemy had now earned enough toset up for a master tailor; when, one bright moonlight night, hesuddenly remembered that it was the very anniversary of his meeting withthe goblin. Starting up, he ran to where his pouch was placed, took outthe Gold Stone and enjoyed a long look at it, and then, throwing hiscloak around him, he hastened forth. The moonlight beamed brightly onthe path he was taking, and seemed to throw all sorts of queer shadowsbefore him; now it was an immense yardstick, now a thimble supported ontwo needles like a pair of spindle legs, then a goose with a pair ofshears astride on the handle. 

At last, as he paused under the old tree, he heard a familiar croakinglaugh, and found himself unexpectedly in the presence of Snippinbitz, the friendly goblin. 

"Well, Bartlemy, " croaked the being; "and how have you prospered withthe Gold Stone?"

"Marvellously well, your worship!" replied Bartlemy, in a joyous tone. 

"And you found a crown and a shilling, and a guinea and a crown, instead of your penny and farthing; did you, Bartlemy?"

"Why, yes, your worship, I did, certainly. "

"And the Gold Stone changed them, did it, Bartlemy?"

"Why, yes, your worship; of course it did. "

"Now, Bartlemy, " said the goblin, in a confidential tone, laying hishand on the other's shoulder, "I want to tell you something. It isn'tthe Gold Stone!"

"It's--not--the--Gold--Stone!!" gasped Bartlemy. 

"Why, no, you donkey! there's no such thing!"

Bartlemy turned fairly green and yellow with horror and disappointment. 

"Listen to me, Bartlemy Bowbell, " said the goblin; "nobody but a donkeywould suppose that a round bit of purple glass----"

"Of purple glass!" repeated Bartlemy, in a sort of dream. 

"Don't interrupt, Bartlemy--that a bit of purple glass could changecopper into gold. Your master paid you the wages your work was worth, that is all. There is no such preposterous jewel on the face of theearth as you imagine; but there _is_ a true Gold Stone, and its name is

 'FAITHFUL INDUSTRY!'"

As the goblin spoke these words, he suddenly began to change his form, and grew taller and broader. His bell-button thimbles fell off, his flatnose became long and sharp, his thread hair gave place to a bald pate, and his whole appearance became wonderfully like Bartlemy's master. Heraised his yardstick, brought it down with a tremendouscrack--and--Bartlemy WOKE!

Yes! he was lying under the tree where he had thrown himself down thenight before. The whole of what had passed, Gold Stone, money, goblin, and all, was but the fantastic tracery of a dream; and above him reallystood his master, who had repented of having turned away his luckless'prentice, and had come to seek him. 

The lesson was not lost, however, on our hero. He returned to hismaster's shop, where he worked diligently, without any yardstick comingafter him; and in three years' time rose to be a master tailor, marriedhis old master's daughter, cut the coats of the king himself, and tookfor his arms a Gold Stone, supported by two shears, and the motto:

 FAITHFUL INDUSTRY. 

FOOTNOTE:

[A] A shop-board is a kind of table on which tailors sit whenat work. 

THE PHILOSOPHERS' TOUR. 

THERE were once five learned men, who had been shut up all their livesin their studies, poking their noses into saucepans full of cookeries, which did not resemble savory soups or well-flavored ragouts, wearingtheir eyes out with reading books printed in the crabbedest black letterpossible, and shrivelling up their brains with thinking, until theyquite rattled inside their skulls, all in pursuit of out-o'-the-wayknowledge. 

There was really nothing scientific with which they were notacquainted; while, in the mean time, one or two little things, perfectlyfamiliar to people who use their eyes for the purpose of noticing thecommon occurrences and habits of every-day existence, and exercise theirunderstanding in everything that can make life comfortable andagreeable, had entirely escaped the observation of our philosophers. 

As the emperor allowed them each a handsome pension to advance theinterests of science, they went on with their discoveries rejoicing, andfor a long time had never stirred from their apartments in one of HisMajesty's country palaces. They scarcely left off thinking, when theywere asleep; never had the least idea what they were eating for dinner, or even what the materials of that dinner looked like; and, in short, were sublimely unconscious of any of the ordinary affairs or interestsof life; and thought only of sciences, and high-flown theories ofHealth, of Natural Philosophy, Chemistry, Botany, and goodness knowswhat beside. The fifth and last of the learned men was supposed toconsider silence as an art or science, since he hardly ever saidanything; and for that reason was thought to be wiser than the otherfour put together. 

At last, one fine morning, one of our learned men chanced to poke hishead out of the window, to see what on earth had become of one of hisglass retorts, which he had filled with gas until it went off like arocket; and could not help being struck with the blue sky, the freshgreen herbage, and the thousands of beautiful wild flowers thatsprinkled the grass. It was a charming summer day; the birds had not yetleft off singing, and the fresh breeze, fanning the bald forehead of thephilosopher, appeared wonderfully pleasant. 

"Why, bless me!" cried the philosopher, whose name was Dr. Skihi; "whileI have been trying to reduce chemistry to the uses of a penny post, Inever thought of remarking whether it was a pleasant day or not. Howbright and beautiful everything looks! Out-of-doors is a very good sortof thing, after all. I declare, I've a great mind--pooh! nonsense;science--glorious science, is a great deal more to be regarded than afine day in the country. "

[Illustration: DR. MUMBUDGET LOOKING OUT OF THE WINDOW. ]

So saying, he drew his head in again, and turned to his books andsaucepans; for, you see, he was trying to condense gas, and make it dartthrough the air like a skyrocket, carrying a letter, or a telegraphicmessage, or even a traveller with it, if it was made strong enough; but, so far, he had only succeeded in breaking his retorts, and blowinghimself up till his head came bump against the ceiling, and knocked offlittle bits of plaster. Everything in the study looked remarkably dingyafter the freshness of the fields, and the doctor could not refrainfrom taking another peep. This time, the contrast appeared even greaterthan before, while directly underneath his window there now stood twopretty little girls, one holding a great bunch of roses and otherblooming flowers, and both intent on a long leaf of manuscript, whichthey were puzzling and laughing over, calling it "such a silly thing!"Our doctor, to his great dudgeon, recognized it as part of a learnedtreatise, his own production, which had accidentally blown out of thewindow; but, as to be known as the writer of silly things is notspecially dignified, he preferred saying nothing about the matter. 

"I have a great mind, " he said again; "yes, I'll go and ask Dr. Sheepshanks if he does not think it would be a good plan for us to takea short trip into the country. No doubt we should make some veryimportant discoveries. "

Excusing the idea to himself in this way, Dr. Skihi toddled up one pairof stairs and down two pair of stairs, and straight along a crookedcorridor, and all round a square hall, until he arrived at theapartments of Dr. Sheepshanks. He knocked at the door, and peepedthrough the keyhole until he was told to come in, when he opened thedoor softly, and shut it with an astonished bang, that made all thespiders, who were dancing hornpipes in all the corners (for the learnedmen would have died rather than have their sacred studies disturbed bya house-cleaning) stand on one leg for several minutes with surprise, asa noise in the philosophers' palace was a thing rather more seldom metwith than a crononhotonthologos. 

The sight that caused Dr. Skihi to commit such a breach of good mannerswas Dr. Sheepshanks in the very middle of a summersault! with hisflowered dressing gown about his ears and his spindle shanks and blackstockings in the air, looking not unlike a two-legged radish growingupside down. 

To him rushed Dr. Skihi, who, catching his friend by the tails of hisdressing gown, had him right side up in a hurry, exclaiming, "Cruciblesand gasbags! my good sir, have you gone crazy?"

"No, indeed, " returned Dr. Sheepshanks, with a gleeful laugh. "I havemade a discovery, sir--a great discovery. I happened to look out of thewindow, a moment ago, and I saw a couple of little chaps racing up anddown, and playing at that topsy-turvy game you saw me trying just now. Their cheeks were so fat, and their frames so sturdy, that I feelconvinced such exercises are the best promoters of health in the world;and as I am getting rather broken down myself, while I am finding outwhat is the best way for other people to keep healthy, I thought I wouldtry the experiment. It does make the blood rush to the head somewhat, Imust confess; but it's a glorious thing, you may depend! I feel twentyyears younger and better already, I assure you!"

All this time Dr. Sheepshanks was puffing and panting, with a very redface and astonished air; but the new theory had taken possession of him, and he would have died at the stake rather than allow that turningsummersaults was not the exercise best adapted to old gentlemen ofsixty. 

Finding his friend so prepossessed in favor of exercise, Dr. Skihiproposed to him that they should go and take a walk, to which he readilyagreed. Then they went to Dr. Smelfungus, the great botanist, who wasat present trying to graft japonicas on bramble bushes: "It wouldimprove the appearance of the roadside so much!" and Dr. Van Noostile, who was writing a splendid work, in twenty-five volumes, to prove thatpeople's feeling hot and cold was perfect fancy and nonsense; and alsogiving a number of scientific ways of finding out whether it would rainor be clear, and what time o' day it was, without looking to see if thewind were east, or running to stare at a clock; which, no doubt, wouldbe of the greatest use to the world, and leave all the weathercocks andwatchmakers quite in the shade. Last of all, they came to Dr. Mumbudget, who had on his study door the great doorplate you see in the picture, with his name engraved on it in letters six inches long. As usual, hesaid not a word in reply to the invitation of his friends, but noddedhis head at them instead, until he nearly nodded it off; and so, beingall of one mind, our philosophers locked up their studies, put on theirfive-cornered caps, and taking their gold-headed canes and their notebooks, to be ready to put down any new fact that might turn up, startedoff for a country ramble. 

At first they walked along quietly enough, admiring the prospect, andenjoying the fresh air; but after a few moments, Dr. Sheepshanks couldno longer resist the desire to put his new theory of health intopractice. 

"Really, " he began, "it would be much better for us always to pursue ourstudies in the open air. Science teaches us that the most healthy peopleare the wild Indians--those children of nature, who live under thetrees, dine off fresh fruits, and take plenty of exercise. Let us bechildren of nature, my friends, and improve our health by running tothat tree, " pointing to one at some distance. 

Accordingly, the philosopher started off at an amble, followed by hiscompanions, who, with dressing gowns flying in the wind, and booksflying, out of their pockets every minute, presented rather ridiculousspectacles. They were so deeply engaged that they did not see Dr. Mumbudget quietly walking along behind, picking up their scatteredproperty. 

So far so good; but unhappily, not being accustomed to the habits ofchildren of nature, this sudden introduction to the true mode of lifediscomposed our learned doctors in no small degree. Fairly aching fromhead to foot with fatigue, Dr. Sheepshanks was the first to pause, soout of breath that he could hardly speak, yet exclaiming, with a beamingface, "Ah! you may depend, gentlemen, that the only way to enjoy life isto take plenty of exercise!"

This was drawing rather too hard on the patience of his friends, afterwhat they had just endured, and Dr. Skihi exclaimed, rather crossly, "At the same time, your exercise is a famous thing to make one thirsty!I would give a great deal to obtain a drink of spring water; but that isimpossible at present. "

"Impossible! why, there is nothing easier!" said Dr. Smelfungus. "Science teaches us that some vegetables are nearly all water; turnips, for instance. All you have to do is to get a turnip and express thejuice, and there's your drink of water. "

"How about going to a well?" said Mumbudget; but nobody appeared to hearhim. 

"And pray, are there any turnips hereabout?" asked the chemist, impatiently. 

Now, the fact was that Dr. Smelfungus had never seen a turnip; he hadonly read in books that turnips were round, watery vegetables, yellowoutside and full of juice; for he was so interested in finding out allabout flowers and plants that came from Australia, and other out of theway places, that he never troubled his head with common, homemadeturnips--those were too vulgar; but as he wished to appear informed onall subjects, he pointed hap-hazard to a field beside the road saying, carelessly, "Certainly; there are some. "

Now, what do you think Dr. Smelfungus had really pointed out? Why, amusk-melon patch! and as his companions knew no more than himself, Dr. Skihi scrambled through the hedge without more ado, cut with hispenknife as many as he could carry, and returned to his friends. You maybelieve how they enjoyed the feast, sitting on the soft moss, in thecool shade of the trees; and after they were through, Dr. Smelfungusgravely wrote down, "Turnip--a large, round vegetable growing on vines, with a rough, yellow outside, ever so many seeds in the middle, andtastes of nutmegs!"

After these exploits, the philosophers continued on their way, and Drs. Smelfungus and Sheepshanks felt more proud of their learning than ever. Meanwhile Dr. Mumbudget said nothing; so they gave him credit either forthinking a great deal, or being too big a donkey to admire suchsplendid experiments. 

The sun had now mounted high, and our travellers began to feel its raysinconveniently warm. Dr. Van Noostile, however, laughed them all toscorn. 

"Too warm! fiddlestick's end!" he cried. "This feeling warm and cold isall humbug. Dr. Skihi can tell you that I went to the top of the housewith him every night for a week, last winter, to look at a comet, innothing but a night gown and an umbrella, and I never was better in mylife! Other people might have felt cold, or caught cold; but I--Ienjoyed the science of the thing! If you feel too warm, follow my plan;make up your minds you _won't_ feel so, and the thing's done!" and Dr. Van Noostile marched proudly along in the hottest part of the road, withhis nose in the air, though the sun blistered the end most abominably!while the others, not to be behindhand in wisdom, followed his example;all but Mumbudget, who kept in the shade of the trees growing beside theroad, and was secretly voted a greater donkey than ever. 

Fortunately for the rest, who might otherwise have been sunstruck, afriendly cloud bank, which had been for some time gathering in the east, now began to cover the sky completely; and Dr. Mumbudget, speaking forthe second time, just said, "Rain coming; better hurry on, " and thenrelapsed into silence. 

"Rain! no such thing!" cried Dr. Van Noostile. "When it is about torain, you will observe _that the swallows fly low!_ and as I don't see asign of a swallow, you may depend that----" His speech was interruptedby a thunderclap, and then down poured the flood! in one of thosesudden, heavy showers that so often take place in summer, wetting thewhole party to the skin in less than two minutes. It was of no use torun, and as they plodded along in the wet, our philosophers looked atDr. Van Noostile with faces in which anger and dismay were equallymingled. 

"Is this your knowledge of weather?" exclaimed Dr. Skihi, in a pet. 

"Science teaches us that even a child of nature should go in when itrains!" snapped Dr. Sheepshanks. 

"And though water is undoubtedly necessary for internal refreshment;external application, in the form of a hard shower, is only suitable toplants!" snarled Dr. Smelfungus. 

In short, they all set upon the luckless weather prophet, except Dr. Mumbudget, who, when they had all scolded themselves out of breath, quietly pointed out a farm house they were now approaching, and led theway thither himself. 

There was no need for words. Gladly did the wretched philosophers hastento its shelter, and avail themselves of the bright kitchen fire to drytheir flowered dressing gowns, and wet stockings and shoes. While theywere drying, and steaming like the safety valve of a high-pressuresteamboat, the good woman of the house, not without some doubts of theirsanity, set about preparing a savory meal. In a short time this wasready, and the others were just sitting down to a dish of nice broiledham and some light wheaten biscuits, when Dr. Sheepshanks exclaimed, with an air of amazement, "Is it possible, my friends, that you arewilling to violate the natural laws of health by eating dishes at whicha child of nature would be horrified! Not for me be so degenerate ameal! _I_ shall lunch on fare such as a wild Indian best loves!" Sosaying, he tucked up his sleeves, called for some unground corn, andhaving pounded it in a mortar until it was in coarse bits, he mixed withit a little water, and baked this horrible mess before the fire, in thehot ashes. Then he asked for a slice of bacon, as venison was not athand, frizzled the out side slightly by holding it up on a cleft stickbefore the fire, burning his ten fingers several times in the process, and bearing it with heroic fortitude. Finally, he served up theseatrocious specimens of cookery on pieces of board instead of dishes, asthe proper diet for children of nature--and philosophers!

As he could not induce the other _savants_ to prefer the luncheon ofwild Indians to that of civilized Christians, Dr. Sheepshanks ate itall up himself, though, in fact, his rebellious palate steadily refusedto relish the dainties prepared for it. Science must be made to triumph, however, and the little doctor gallantly charged these "What is It's" ofcookery and finished the last morsel under furious protest of stomach. 

Somewhat comforted by the meal, and seeing that the clouds had givenplace to a clear sky, the philosophers resumed their dressing gowns, woefully shrunken by the wetting and drying they had received, andhaving liberally paid their hostess, started on the homeward road;concluding that they had seen enough for one day. They were in the verypoorest condition for a long walk, for their theories, so far frommaking them any happier, had produced only ill effects. Dr. Sheepshanks'healthful exercise had given them all stitches in the sides, and achesin the back; Dr. Smelfungus's knowledge of botany had betrayed them intosuch excesses of melon alias turnip eating, that various queer doublingsup in the epigastric region began to make themselves apparent; thenatural philosophy, which had led Dr. Van Noostile and his good friendsto parade along the middle of the road in the sun, had given themfurious headaches; and, to crown all, Dr. Skihi now made the mostbrilliant proposal of anybody. 

Our good doctor was evidently brimming, one might say creaming, overwith the milk of human kindness; beyond a possible doubt he was about topropound a discovery of benefit to the whole world. His bald head beamedbenevolence, overflowing beneficence to all mankind radiated from thevery tails of his dressing gown as he cried:

"My dear friends, you are all too tired to walk home now, ain't you? Youwould like to get there before you could say 'Jack Robinson'--now, wouldn't you? and if I were to accomplish that happy end, you couldnever be grateful enough--now, could you?"

"Certainly not!" exclaimed the advocate of exercise, who wished from hisinmost soul, either that he had taken less turnip, or that the famousseven league boots were on his legs at that moment. 

"Then all you have to do, " cried Dr. Skihi with sparkling eyes, "is toget in a convenient posture; allow me to set off this retort of minebehind you--" here he produced a "glass concern" from a side pocket, tothe horror of his friends--"and heigh, presto! you will find yourselfflying home like a skyrocket"--

"And coming down like the stick!" gasped Dr. Smelfungus, retiring in ahurry, for the tails of his dressing gown and the gas retort of Dr. Skihi were in inconvenient proximity. 

Dr. Skihi vouchsafed not another word, but with an air of indescribabledignity adjusted the retort, took out a cork--and--but words fail me todescribe the catastrophe! Before Dr. Mumbudget could rush forward toprevent it, the gas had come in contact with the air, become inflamedinstantly, and sent Dr. Skihi whirling above the heads of his friends!

Vesuvius in eruption, coal mines on fire, mad bulls in the full rush, and crackers exploding in a barrel, rushed wildly through the heads ofour philosophers, and when, finally, the rocket-riding doctor wasdischarged on a hayrick, the only person who retained sufficientpresence of mind to go and pick him up was Mumbudget. 

Poor Dr. Skihi! The victim to science remained insensible for sometime; and when he finally recovered his consciousness, could not atfirst be persuaded that he was not in innumerable pieces. When he was, at last, enabled to walk on, it was discovered that while they wereexperimenting they had lost their way, and might be close to home or inthe middle of Kamtschatka for all they knew of the road. It was againMumbudget who helped them out of this difficulty, by speaking for thethird time that day; and this third remark of the sage was as much tothe point as the two first. "Ask somebody!" propounded Mumbudget, andafter hobbling miserably along for some time, this somebody turned up inthe person of a very small, ragged, dirty urchin; and under theguidance of this contemptible little snipe did our prodigies of wisdomarrive at last at the abode of Science and Knowledge!

As they entered the hall, Dr. Smelfungus, with an admiring glance at thespeechless Mumbudget, exclaimed, "After all, gentlemen, there must be ascience far higher than ours, since we, with all our knowledge, findpractical life a matter of such difficulty. Only one man, it appears, ismaster of it, and there he stands!" and he made a low bow to Mumbudget, who returned it by another, without a word of reply. 

Dr. Skihi, at this, glanced with profound contempt at Smelfungus, andgave a "hum!" that was echoed by the professor of health and him ofnatural science; then raising himself on the tips of his toes, andseesawing up and down at every word, he inquired, superciliously, "Andpray, sir, may I ask, in the name of my scientific friends, what branchof science you profess, which is superior to every other?"

Mumbudget looked with a quiet smile at the excited little doctor, andreplied, calmly:

"Gentlemen, I am the professor of COMMON SENSE. "

At this reply, the learned friends, Smelfungus not excepted, presented aseries of remarkably open countenances, as respected eyes and mouths, while Dr. Mumbudget went on:

"Chemistry, Botany, Natural Philosophy, and Hygienics--all put together, gentlemen, have failed to ensure us one day of rational enjoyment orease; for all these sciences are pure absurdities, unless they are putin the hands of men who are governed by the wholesome dictates of commonsense. My wise philosophers, will you come to school to me?"

The doctors gazed a moment yet; first at the proposer of this newdoctrine, then at each other; and then, all rushing forward at once, they seized his hands. 

"You are right, my dear Mumbudget!" they exclaimed in a breath; "withall our science we are most greatly in want of common sense! Open yourschool at once; we will be the first to join its classes, and celebratethe triumph of Reason over Philosophy!"

 THE END OF THE FIFTH BOOK. 

 * * * * *

Transcriber's Notes:

Obvious punctuation errors repaired. 

Page 95, "irrisistibly" changed to "irresistibly" (it--irresistibly--to)