 After twenty years by O. Henry. Recording by Warren Coddy, Gurney, Illinois. After twenty years, the policeman on the beat moved up the avenue impressively. The impressiveness was habitual and not for show, for spectators were few. The time was barely ten o'clock at night, but chilly gusts of wind with a taste of rain in them had well-nigh de-peopled the streets. Trying doors as he went, twirling his club with many intricate and artful movements, turning now and then to cast his watchful eye down the Pacific thoroughfare, the officer, with his stalwart form and slight swagger, made a fine picture of a guardian of the peace. The vicinity was one that kept early hours. Now and then you might see the lights of a cigar store or of an all-night lunch counter, but the majority of the doors belonged to business places that had long since been closed. When about midway of a certain block, the policeman suddenly slowed his walk. In the doorway of a darkened hardware store, a man leaned, with an unlighted cigar in his mouth. As the policeman walked up to him, the man spoke up quickly. It's all right, officer, he said reassuringly. I'm just waiting for a friend. It's an appointment made twenty years ago. Sounds a little funny to you, doesn't it? Well, I'll explain if you'd like to make certain it's all straight. About that long ago there used to be a restaurant where this store stands. Big Joe Brady's restaurant. Until five years ago, said the policeman, it was torn down then. The man in the doorway struck a match and lit his cigar. The light showed a pale, square-jawed face, with keen eyes, and a little white scar near his right eyebrow. His scarf pin was a large diamond, oddly set. Twenty years ago tonight, said the man. I dined here at Big Joe Brady's with Jimmy Wells, my best chump and the finest chap in the world. He and I were raised here in New York, just like two brothers, together. I was eighteen and Jimmy was twenty. The next morning I was to start for the West to make my fortune. You couldn't have dragged Jimmy out of New York, he thought it was the only place on Earth. Well, we agreed that night that we would meet here again, exactly twenty years from that date and time. No matter what our conditions might be or from what distance we might have to come. We figured that in twenty years each of us ought to have our destiny worked out and our fortunes made, whatever they were going to be. It sounds pretty interesting, said the policeman. Rather a long time between meets, though, it seems to me. Haven't you heard from your friends since you left? Well, yes, for a time we corresponded, said the other. But after a year or two we lost track of each other. You see, the West is a pretty big proposition, and I kept hustling around over it pretty lively. I know Jimmy will meet me here if he's alive, for he always was the truest, staunchest old chap in the world. He'll never forget. I came a thousand miles to stand in this door tonight, and it's worth it if my old partner turns up. The waiting man pulled out a handsome watch, the lids of it set with small diamonds. Three minutes to ten, he announced. It was exactly ten o'clock when we parted here at the restaurant door. Did pretty well out west, didn't you? asked the policeman. You bet! I hope Jimmy has dod half as well. He was a kind of plotter, though, good fellow as he was. I've had to compete with some of the sharpest wits going to get my pile. A man gets in a groove in New York. It takes the West to put a razor edge on him. The policeman twirled his club and took a step or two. I'll be on my way. Hope your friend comes around all right. Going to call time on him sharp? I should say not, said the other. I'll give him half an hour at least. If Jimmy is alive on earth, he'll be here by that time. So long, officer. Good night, sir, said the policeman, passing on along his beat, trying doors as he went. There was now a fine cold drizzle falling, and the wind had risen from its uncertain puffs into a steady blow. The few foot-passengers astir in that quarter hurried dismally and silently along, with coat-callers turned high and pocketed hands. And in the door of the hardware store, the man who had come a thousand miles to fill an appointment, uncertain almost to absurdity, with the friend of his youth, smoked his cigar and waited. About twenty minutes he waited, and then a tall man in a long overcoat, with collar turned up to his ears, hurried across from the opposite side of the street. He went directly to the waiting man. Is that you, Bob? he asked doubtfully. Is that you, Jimmy Wells? cried the man in the door. Bless my heart, exclaimed the new arrival, grasping both the other's hands with his own. It's Bob, sure as fate! I was certain I'd find you here if you were still in existence. Well, well, well, twenty years is a long time. The old restaurant's gone, Bob. I wish it had lasted, so we could have had another dinner there. How has the West treated you, old man? Bully, it has given me everything I ask it for. You've changed lots, Jimmy. I never thought you were so tall by two or three inches. Oh, I grew a bit after I was twenty. Doing well in New York, Jimmy? Moderately I have a position in one of the city departments. Come on, Bob, we'll go around to a place I know of and have a good long talk about old times. The two men started up the street, arm in arm. The man from the West, his egotism enlarged by success, was beginning to outline the history of his career. The other, submerged in his overcoat, listened with interest. At the corner stood a drugstore, brilliant with electric lights. When they came into this glare, each of them turned simultaneously to gaze upon the others' face. The man from the West stopped suddenly and released his arm. You're not, Jimmy Wells, he snapped. Twenty years is a long time, but not long enough to change a man's nose from a Roman to a pug. It sometimes changes a good man into a bad one, said the tall man. You've been under arrest for ten minutes, silky Bob. Chicago thinks you may have dropped over our way and wires us. She wants to have a chat with you. Going quietly, are you? That's sensible. Now, before we go on to the station, here's a note I was asked to hand you. You may read it here at the window. It's from Patrolman Wells. The man from the West unfolded the little piece of paper handed him. His hand was steady when he began to read, but it trembled a little by the time he had finished. The note was rather short. Bob, I was at the appointed place on time. When you struck the match to light your cigar, I saw it was the face of the man wanted in Chicago. Somehow I couldn't do it myself, so I went around and got a plain clothesman to do the job. The note was signed, Jimmy. End of After Twenty Years by O. Henry. The Automatic Made of All Work by M. L. Campbell This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Colleen McMahon. The Automatic Made of All Work. A possible tale of the near future. Yes, I mean what I say. An Automatic Made of All Work invented by my husband, John Matheson. You see, it was this way. The old story of servants ever since we began housekeeping. We've had every kind, and if we did get a good one, something would come along to take her off. You know, John has invented lots of things. There's that door spring now. Not much when you look at it, but it brings in quite a little income. He used to say that he was spending his spare time on an Automatic Made of All Work. Of course I laughed and said I wished he would and thought no more of it. Well, the day the last girl left, John announced that the Automatic Made of All Work was completed, and that he would stay at home next day and show me how to work it. Of course, I didn't believe in it. It was a queer-looking thing, with its long arms, for all the world like one of those old-fashioned windmills you see in pictures of foreign countries. It had a face like one of those 24-hour clocks, only there were no hands. Each number was a sort of electric button. It was run by electricity, you know. The battery was inside. I didn't understand it very well. I never could see into anything in the way of machinery. I never pretend to listen when John tells me about his inventions. The figures, as I said, were buttons, and you just had to connect them with some wires inside. There were a lot of wires, each for some kind of work which would be done at the hour indicated by the button you connected with it. This was handy, so that we would not have to get up in the morning till breakfast time and would be handy in lots of ways. Now look, Fanny, said John. Do try and understand how it works. You see this wire now? I'll connect it with button number six, and at that hour the maid will light the fire, sweep the kitchen, and then the dining room. Now this button number seven will be the one to set the alarm to. It will sound for about ten minutes. I'd sound it now only it makes a fearful noise. Then the maid will go upstairs to turn down the beds, a convenient arrangement in many ways. Then it will go downstairs, lay the cloth for breakfast, make the tea and toast, bring in the things, and ring the breakfast bell. You'll have to leave all the breakfast things on one shelf, of course, and measure the oatmeal and tea also. We won't set any more buttons tonight. It's just as well to be around at first to see that all goes right. There may be some adjustment necessary. We went to bed then, and it was daylight when I awoke. I was conscious of a peculiar wearing noise, but I had got thoroughly awakened when I heard the most awful screams and thumps, and the two boys came running into our room in their night dresses, and after them the automatic maid of all work. By this time I was out of bed, but John sleeps very soundly. He started as the maid jerked the bed clothes down and laid them over the footboard, but he wasn't quick enough. It took him under the arm. It had an awful grip, too, and laid him across the footboard after giving him a thump or two as I do the pillows. John had watched me do it and had the thing to perfection. He didn't suppose it would be tried on him, though. He didn't seem quite prepared for such a performance, for he flounced around so that he and the bed clothes, pillows, and all landed in a heap on the floor. By this time the boys had got over their fright, having been treated in the same manner, and we all laughed. John can't bear to be laughed at. However, we proceeded to dress after the maid had gone downstairs. I could see John was a little nervous, but he didn't want to show it, so he waited till I was ready. The boys got down first and we could hear them laughing. I daresay you'll have to arrange the table a little fanny, said John as we went down, but that won't be much to do when all the things are on. Well, we went into the dining room, and sure enough the table was set and pretty well, too, only that the butter dish with the butter was upside down on the table, and the coal scuttle was set at John's place instead of the oatmeal dish. That was because John, who always leaves things in the most ridiculous places, had left it standing on the back of the stove after putting in the coal ready for the morning fire. The porridge was standing cooked on the stove. We got an arrangement with a white earthen bowl set into a kettle, and the bowl had just to be removed and carried in. However, the coal scuttle had stood in the way, and John had to carry it out and bring in the porridge. The toast was scorched a little, but the eggs were boiled just to perfection, and we all enjoyed it immensely. Meanwhile, the maid was upstairs making the beds, and such beds you never saw. You'd think they'd have been cast in a mold. The maid came downstairs just as we were through, and then John pulled another wire. After doing so, he acted rather strangely. He didn't seem to be able to let go of the wire for a minute. It gave him a shock, you know. After that, he handled the wires more carefully. Then the maid proceeded to clear the table. Here there was a slight complication, however, for the maid washed everything, and though we'd eaten up nearly all, still there was some butter in the dish, a bowl of sugar, and the salt cellar. However, as there was lots of good hot water, the dishes after they were wiped were as clean as could be, but John suggested that for the present, until he could make some improvements, the eatables had better be removed first for, of course, he said, there will be some imperfections. Now, Fanny, I suppose you want to wash, don't you? You have the clothes ready, I see. Yes, but it seems to me that the dining room is not swept very clean. Anyway, the crumbs ought to be swept up. Exactly, returned John. Only, you see, I fixed it so that it would just run around the table once before breakfast, and then afterwards you can have all the furniture moved out and the whole room swept every day. Well, the maid proceeded to remove the furniture. It went to the middle of the room, then began to circle round, removing everything it came into contact with and setting things out in the hall. John dropped the leaves of the table, and all went well till it came to the stove and attempted to remove that also. But something was amiss, and it veered off to one side. John started forward to turn it off that track, but it promptly picked him up and removed him. I forgot to say that a revolving brush in the bottom was sweeping all this time, and now the thing was making the last circuit, as I thought, for it had touched the wall on three sides, and I was wondering how it would get into the corners, while John watched the stove and wondered if it could pass between that and the wall without coming into contact with the stove. But there the passage was not wide enough, and the stove, a little open grate, was picked up and removed. The pipes fell down and made a lot of dirt, but that was pretty well swept up, as the maid had to make two or three more circles to allow for the corners. John replaced the furniture as he had not provided for that part of the work. The stove we decided to carry out for the season, but in the meantime he had started the maid at the washing. You see, there was no time lost between things, and I tell you, those clothes were washed, and so was John's coat, which was a pretty good one he had taken off and laid on the bench. Then we had the kitchen scrubbed, the same apparatus which did the sweeping doing that also. John adjusted it so that the furniture was merely pushed aside. The worst of the thing was that you could not stop the maid when it got going till it had run down, and what was more, if you interfered with the wires when it was going you were apt to get a shock from the battery. This was inconvenient sometimes. For instance, after the kitchen was all scrubbed, the things still ran around the walls scrubbing as hard as ever. John said the only thing was to pull another wire and set it to work at something else. It would run till after the tea dishes were washed anyway, and probably we could find something harmless to keep it employed. Just then John was called out to speak to a man about some coal, and I undertook to head the thing across the middle of the room. Unfortunately, it rushed straight into the dining room, water, pail and all. I didn't care much, I wanted a new carpet for that room anyway, and I knew that city spot would never come out. The water and the pail was very dirty by this time. John had not thought of it having to be changed. Presently John returned, and we got into the kitchen again. There was another funny thing about it. Whenever anyone got going ahead of it in the same direction it was sure to follow, and the only way to get out of its road was to double back on your own track and dodge it. It was the current of air it followed. John said that he had a reason for making it that way. While sweeping the kitchen it got after one of the boys once, and it dodged around tables and chairs just as he did, till John told him to turn and go back. It got after Bruno when we got it out of the dining room into the kitchen. He had just come in from the barn to have something to eat. He turned tail and howled, but he could not get out of the way till he jumped out of the window. The cat fared worse than Bruno, though, for she was picked up along with the wiping cloth and rubbed over the floor for about three yards before she managed to get free. It was quite a hole in the window, and we have not seen the cat since. John said there was a fine arrangement for answering the door. Of course, in some instances we would have to go ourselves, especially if any old lady or timid person who has not made the acquaintance of the maid were expected. But if the postman or parcel delivery, it would be all right. Anyone could send in a card, too, you see. But the best of all was the arrangement for putting tramps off the premises. John was just explaining how this was done when Fred exclaimed, There's an old fellow now. I wonder if he's coming here? Yes, sure enough, he turned in at the gate, and presently there was a ring at the doorbell. Beggars are so impudent, and this was an old offender, so I didn't say anything when John pressed the wire, and we all followed to the door to see the effect, John remarking that it wouldn't hurt him. The door was opened quite quietly, but closed with a bang after the maid. At first, upon reopening the door, we thought it had missed fire, for the tramp, looking somewhat scared, stood at one side of the doorway, but the maid was scuttling down the path with some limp figure in its arms. I was sorry to recognize an uncle of John's, from whom John had expectations. I knew his bald head. The maid had him by the middle, and his feet and head hung down so that his hat dropped off. He was too much surprised to attempt resistance, and the maid deposited him in a heap in the gutter, and then returned. We were so bothered by the turn affairs had taken that we forgot to get out of the way. Fred received a slap which sent him sprawling. John was lifted bodily after the manner of his uncle, and laid upon the table. While I, with my skirts being caught, was forced to run backwards in a very undignified manner, till by grasping a doorknob I wrenched myself free at the expense of a width of my skirt. I stood hanging onto that doorknob as if I expected momentarily to be snatched up and thrown out of the window, when my eyes happened to fall upon Tommy. He was lying upon his back on the floor, his legs slowly waving in the air. He made not a sound. The expression on his face gave me such a start that I relaxed my hold on the doorknob, thinking that he was injured internally. But he raised his hand, and feebly waved me aside. He was simply too tired to laugh anymore, and was obliged to lie down and wave his legs to express his feelings. Fred had begun to whimper after picking himself up, but catching sight of Tommy laughed instead, until something in their father's eye caused both the boys to take themselves out of doors. However, they perched upon the fence just outside of a window and looked in. You see, Fanny, we must expect some complications at first, said John, but after a while we'll get used to running it better. This, he said, as the maid started out of the front door again, after having buzzed around the hall for a minute. For, as I told you, it was necessary to start it at some new work in order to stop what it was doing. And in the meantime, while we were recovering our breath, it was making trips through the hall to the front gate, and hence to the gutter and back again. John was explaining that we could arrange the length of the trip as we pleased, and it need ordinarily be only to the front door. Just then, however, we heard the most awful screams, and we rushed to the door to see what was the matter. It seems that the maid had encountered at the gate the form of a stout elderly female with a basket and an umbrella, and of course had proceeded to remove the obstacle. However, the obstacle refused to be removed, and they were having a lively time of it. A crowd was beginning to collect, and a policeman appeared around the corner. He interfered on behalf of the stout female, and attempted to arrest the maid. The maid, however, made short work of him. It did not succeed its true in depositing him in the ditch, but it spoiled his hat and caused him to beat a hasty retreat. Then, having removed all obstacles, traversed the remainder of the limit and returned to the house, followed by another angry policeman who, after considerable persuasion, was induced to depart. As the door closed upon the policeman, John looked at May and I at him. The maid had accomplished several revolutions around the dining-room it was about to return. Percy, Fanny, you're always talking how much there is to do. Can't you think of something I'm not supposed to know? No, I answered grimly, but an idea struck John, and he immediately hurried to pull another wire. He did not accomplish it with impunity, however, and I'm sorry to say he made use of some expressions, as he danced around for a minute, which I was glad the boys didn't hear. The maid now went out to the woodshed, and John fixed the handle of the axe into the attachment at the end of one of the arms. Here was something out of the ordinary way, and John brightened up considerably as the axe began to move up and down with a regular double motion. Reached forward, struck a stick at random with the axe blade so as to catch the stick, drew it forward into position, and struck it, splitting it in the center, and through the pieces with two other arms into the corner, and so on till the pile began to get low. Any sticks that were not split fine enough, John threw back. All proceeded well enough till the last stick was split. Then the maid started to buzz around in search of more. It attacked the saw horse and demolished it, ran into a tub and reduced it to kindling wood, ripped up a barrel of ashes and raised a terrible dust which completely drove John into the house. All this time he was trying to get near enough to start it off on another track, but it wheeled around and flung the axe so menacingly that John got excited and lost his head. When the dust had subsided sufficiently, we went out again. By this time the maid had anchored beside the new wood pile and was splitting it over. This would not have mattered much. We didn't mind the wood being reduced to matches, but it was close to the shed window, and the sticks were being flung through, carrying broken glass with them into the street. John did not care for another visit from the policeman, but he was completely nonplussed. Just then he heard a stifled chuckle, and looking over his shoulder he saw several boys perching on the fence and among them our own, who immediately dropped down. But what maddened John was the sight of a newspaper reporter also, who was evidently sketching the scene. Then the air began to be filled with flying missiles, which John threw at the maid, till by some lucky hit some of the machinery was jarred, and the maid rushed wildly around the shed, the axe now slashing about with a motion evidently intended for some other office than wood chopping. John ran to shut the door in the face of the reporter, who was filling sheets with sketches. The maid, however, started after him. John stopped, tried to dodge, hesitated, then ran out of the back gate and down the road, the maid thrashing at him with the axe. This was serious. I ran to the gate and anxiously looked after them, while the boys and reporter followed in the wake of the maid. I very much feared the maid would run into something and do some damage, but I soon saw that as, of course, John avoided all the obstacles, so did the maid and simply followed him. I wondered why he did not reverse and pass the maid, thus putting it off the track. Presently, however, John returned alone, and looking somewhat travel-stained. He pushed past me and went upstairs to the bathroom. I did not dare to follow to ask questions, but Fred and Tommy also returned soon and told me what happened after I lost sight of them. Well, it seems that, first of all, the axe flew off the handle and chopped a rooster, which was scaring out of the way, almost in two. Then they caught up with a cow. It was quite a bit out of town, and she started to run in the same direction. John swerved to one side, and the maid caught up with the cow and belabored her with the axe handle. This made in the cow, so that she made for the river and rushed in, the maid after her. They slashed about in the stream for a minute, then the maid sank, and the cow appeared on the other side. Next morning, about an hour after John went downtown, he sent up a new carpet for the dining-room. We have a German girl now, and I don t know but that she s better than the automatic maid of all work. End of The Automatic Maid of All Work by M. L. Campbell. Recording by Colleen McMahon. The Castle of Time by Lord Dunsenay. Presently there was a stirrer in one of the houses, and a bat flew out of the door into the daylight, and three mice came running out of the doorway down the step, an old stone cracked in two and held together by moss. And there followed an old man, bending on a stick, with a white beard coming to the ground, wearing clothes that were glossed with use, and presently there came others out of the other houses, all of them as old and all hobbling on sticks. These were the oldest people that the king had ever beheld, and he asked them the name of the village, and who they were, and one of them answered, This is the city of the aged in the territory of time. And the king said, Is time then here? And one of the old men pointed to a great castle standing on a steep hill and said, Therein dwells time, and we are his people. And they all looked curiously at King Carnuth Zoo, and the eldest of the villagers spoke again and said, Whence do you come, you that are so young? And Carnuth Zoo told him that he had come to conquer time, to save the world and the gods, and ask them whence they came. And the villagers said, We are older than always, and know not whence we came, but we are the people of time, and here, from the edge of everything, he sends out his hours to assail the world, and you may never conquer time. But the king went back to his armies and pointed toward the castle on the hill, and told them that at last they had found the enemy of the earth, and they that were older than always went back slowly into their houses, with the creaking of olden doors. And they went across the fields and passed the village. From one of his towers time eyed them all the while, and in battle order they closed in on the steep hill, as time sat still in his great tower and watched. But as the feet of the foremost touched the edge of the hill, time hurled five years against them, and the years passed over their heads, and the army still came on, an army of older men. But the slope seemed steeper to the king and to every man in his army, and they breathed more heavily, and time summoned up more years, and one by one he hurled them at Carnuth's zoo and at all his men, and the knees of the army stiffened, and their beards grew and turned gray, and the hours and the days and the months went singing over their heads, and their hair turned whiter and whiter, and the conquering hours bored down, and the years rushed on and swept the youth of that army clean away until they came face to face under the walls of the castle of time with a mass of howling years, and found the top of the slope too steep for aged men. Slowly and painfully, harassed with uggies and chills, the king rallied his aged army that tottered down the slope. Slowly the king led back his warriors over whose heads had shrieked the triumphant years. Year in, year out, they staggered southward, always towards Zune. They came with rust upon their spears, and long beards flowing, again into a starma, and none knew them there. The End of The Castle of Time by Lord Duncidae This recording by Janu One morning, the old water rat put his head out of his hole. He had bright, beady eyes and stiff gray whiskers, and his tail was like a long bit of black India rubber. The little ducks were swimming about in the pond, looking just like a lot of yellow canaries, and their mother, who was pure white with real red legs, was trying to teach them how to stand on their heads in the water. You will never be in the best society unless you can stand on your heads, she kept saying to them, and every now and then she showed them how it was done. But the little ducks paid no attention to her. They were so young that they did not know what an advantage it is to be in society at all. What disobedient children! cried the old water rat. They really deserve to be drowned. Nothing of the kind answered the duck. Everyone must make a beginning, and parents cannot be too patient. Ah, I know nothing about the feelings of parents, said the water rat. I am not a family man. In fact, I have never been married and I never intend to be. Love is all very well in its way, but friendship is much higher. Indeed, I know of nothing in the world that is either nobler or rarer than a devoted friendship. And, Pire, what is your idea of the duties of a devoted friend? asked a green-linet, who was sitting in a willow tree hard by, and had overheard the conversation. Yes, that is just what I want to know, said the duck, and she swam away to the end of the pond and stood upon her head in order to give her children a good example. What a silly question, cried the water rat. I should expect my devoted friend to be devoted to me, of course. And what would you do in return? said the little bird, swinging upon a silver spray and flapping his tiny wings. I don't understand you, answered the water rat. Let me tell you a story on the subject, said the linen. Is the story about me, asked the water rat? If so, I will listen to it, for I am extremely fond of fiction. It is applicable to you, answered the linen, and he flew down in a lighting upon the bank. He told the story of the devoted friend. Once upon a time, said the linen, there was an honest little fellow named Hans. Was he very distinguished, asked the water rat? No, answered the linen. I don't think he was distinguished at all, except for his kind heart and his funny, round, good-humored face. He lived in a tiny cottage all by himself, and every day he worked in his garden. In all the countryside, there was no garden so lovely as his. Sweet William grew there, and ghillie flowers, and shepherd's purses, and fair maids of France. There were damask roses, and yellow roses, lilac crocuses, and gold, purple, violets, and white. Columbine and lady smock, marjoram and wild basil, the cow slip and the flower de luce, the daffodil, and the clove pink, gloomed or blossomed in their proper order, as the months went by, one flower taking another flower's place, so that there were always beautiful things to look at, and pleasant odours to smell. Little Hans had a great many friends, but the most devoted friend of all was Big Hugh the Miller. Indeed, so devoted was the rich miller to Little Hans that he would never go by his garden without leaning over the wall and plucking a large nose kit, or a handful of sweet herbs, or filling his pockets with plums and cherries if it was the fruit season. Real friends should have everything in common, the miller used to say, and Little Hans nodded and smiled, and felt very proud of having a friend with such noble ideas. Sometimes indeed, the neighbors thought it strange that the rich miller never gave Little Hans anything in return, though he had a hundred sacks of flowers stored away in his mill, and six milled cows, and a large flock of woolly sheep. But Hans never troubled his head about these things, and nothing gave him greater pleasure than to listen to all the wonderful things the miller used to say about the unselfishness of true friendship. So Little Hans worked away in his garden. During the spring, the summer, and the autumn he was very happy. But when the winter came, and he had no fruit or flowers to bring to the market, he suffered a good deal from cold and hunger, and often had to go to bed without any supper, but a few dried pears or some hard nuts. In the winter also, he was extremely lonely, as the miller never came to see him then. There is no good in my going to see Little Hans as long as the snow last, miller used to say to his wife, for when people are in trouble they should be left alone, and not bothered by visitors. That at least is my idea about friendship, and I am sure I am right. So I shall wait till the spring comes, and then I shall pay him a visit, and he will be able to give me a large basket of primroses, and that will make him so happy. You are certainly very thoughtful about others, answered the wife, as she sat in her comfortable armchair by the big pine wood fire. Very thoughtful indeed. It is quite a treat to hear you talk about friendship. I am sure the clergyman himself could not say such beautiful things as you do, though he does live in a three-storeyed house, and wears a gold ring on his little finger. But could we not ask Little Hans up here? said the miller's youngest son. If poor Hans is in trouble, I will give him half my porridge, and show him my white rabbits. What a silly boy you are! cried the miller. I really don't know what is the use of sending you to school. You seem not to learn anything. Why, if Little Hans came up here, and saw our warm fire and our good supper, and our great cask of red wine, he might get envious, and envy is the most terrible thing, and would spoil anybody's nature. I certainly will not allow Hans' nature to be spoiled. I am his best friend, and I will always watch over him, and see that he is not led into any temptations. Besides, if Hans came here, he might ask him to let him have some flour on credit, and that I could not do. Flour is one thing, and friendship is another, and they should not be confused. Why, the words are spelt differently, and mean quite different things. Everybody can see that. How well you talk, said the miller's wife, pouring herself out a large glass of warm ale. Really, I feel quite drowsy. It is just like being in church. Lots of people act well, answered the miller, but very few people talk well, which shows that talking is much the more difficult thing of the two, and much the finer thing also. And he looked sternly across the table at his little son, who felt so ashamed of himself that he hung his head down, and grew quite scarlet, and began to cry into his teeth. However, he was so young that you must excuse him. Is that the end of the story, asked the water rat? Certainly not, and to the limit, that is the beginning. Then you were quite behind the age, said the water rat. Every good storyteller nowadays starts with the end, and then goes on to the beginning, and concludes with the middle. That is a new method. I heard all about it the other day from a critic, who was walking around the pond with the young man. He spoke of the matter at great length, and I am sure he must have been right, for he had blue spectacles and a bald head, and whenever the young man made any remark, he always answered poo. But pray go on with your story. I like the miller immensely. I have all kinds of beautiful sentiments myself, so there is a great sympathy between us. Well, said the Linit, hopping now on one leg, and now on the other. As soon as the winter was over, the primrose began to open their pale yellow stars. The miller said to his wife that he would go down and see little Hans. Why, what a good heart you have, cried his wife. You are always thinking of others, and mind you take the big basket with you for the flowers. So the miller tied the sails of the windmill together with the strong iron chain, and went down the hill with the basket on his arm. Good morning little Hans, said the miller. Good morning, said Hans, leaning on a spade and smiling from ear to ear. And how have you been all the winter, said the miller? Well really, cried Hans, it is very good of you to ask, very good indeed. I am afraid I had rather a hard time of it, but now the spring has come, and I am quite happy, and all my flowers are doing well. We often talked of you during the winter, Hans, said the miller, and wondered how you were getting on. That was kind of you, said Hans, I was half afraid you had forgotten me. Hans, I am surprised at you, that the miller, friendship never forgets. That is the wonderful thing about it, but I am afraid you don't understand the poetry of life, how lovely your primroses are looking by the by. They are certainly very lovely, said Hans, and it is the most lucky thing for me that I have so many. I am going to bring them into the market and sell them to the burgo master's daughter and buy back my wheelbarrow with the money. Buy back your wheelbarrow? You don't mean to say you have sold it, what a very stupid thing to do. Well the fact is, said Hans, that I was obliged to. You see, the winter was a very bad time for me, and I really had no money at all to buy bread with. So I first sold the silver buttons off my Sunday coat, and then I sold my silver chain, and then I sold my big pipe, and at last I sold my wheelbarrow, but I am going to buy them all back again now. Hans, said the miller, I will give you my wheelbarrow. It is not in very good repair, indeed one side is gone and there is something wrong with the wheel spokes, but in spite of that I will give it to you. I know it is very generous of me, and a great many people would think we extremely foolish for parting with it, but I am not like the rest of the world. I think that generosity is the essence of friendship, and besides I have got a new wheelbarrow for myself. Yes, you may set your mind at ease, I will give you my wheelbarrow. Well really, that is generous of you, said little Hans, and his funny round face glowed all over with pleasure. I can easily put it in repair, as I have a plank of wood in the house. A plank of wood, said the miller, why that is just what I want for the roof of my barn. There is a very large hole in it, and the corn will get all damp if I don't stop it up. How lucky you mentioned it. It is quite remarkable how one good action always breeds another. I have given you my wheelbarrow, and now you are going to give me your plank. Of course, the wheelbarrow is worth far more than the plank, but true, friendship never notices things like that. Pray get it at once, and I will set to work at my barn this very day. Certainly, cried little Hans, and he ran into the shed and dragged the plank out. It is not a very big plank, said the miller, looking at it, and I am afraid that after I have mended my barn roof, there won't be any left for you to mend the wheelbarrow with. But of course, that is not my fault. And now, as I have given you my wheelbarrow, I am sure you would like to give me some flowers in return. Here is the basket, and mind you, fill it quite full. Quite full, said little Hans rather sorrowfully, for it was really a very big basket, and he knew that if he filled it, he would have no flowers left for the market, and he was very anxious to get his silver buttons back. Well really, answered the miller, as I have given you my wheelbarrow, I don't think that it is much to ask you for a few flowers. I may be wrong, but I should have thought that friendship, true friendship, was quite free from selfishness of any kind. My dear friend, my best friend, cried little Hans, you are welcome to all the flowers in my garden. I would much sooner have your good opinion than my silver buttons any day. And he ran and plucked all his pretty primroses, and filled the miller's basket. Goodbye little Hans, said the miller, as he went up the hill with a plank on his shoulder and the big basket in his hand. Goodbye, said little Hans, and he began to dig away quite merrily. He was so pleased about the wheelbarrow. The next day, he was nailing up some honeysuckle against the porch, when he heard the miller's voice calling to him from the road. So he jumped off the ladder and ran down the garden and looked over the wall. There was the miller with a large sack of flower on his back. Dear little Hans, said the miller, would you mind carrying this sack of flower for me to market? Oh I am so sorry, said Hans, but I am really very busy today. I have got all my creepers to nail up, and all my flowers to water, and all my grass to roll. Well really, said the miller, I think that, considering I am going to give you my wheelbarrow, it is rather unfriendly of you to refuse. Oh don't say that, cried little Hans. I wouldn't be unfriendly for the whole world. And he ran in for his cap and trudged off with the big sack on his shoulders. It was a very hot day, and the road was terribly dusty. And before Hans had reached the sixth milestone, he was so tired that he had to sit down and rest. However, he went on bravely, and at last he reached the market. After he had waited there some time, he sold the sack of flower for a very good price, and he returned home at once, for he was afraid that if he stopped too late, he might meet some robbers on the way. It has certainly been a hard day, said little Hans, to himself as he was going to bed, but I am glad I did not refuse the miller, for he is my best friend, and besides, he is going to give me his wheelbarrow. Early the next morning, the miller came down to get the money for a sack of flower. But little Hans was so tired that he was still in bed. Upon my words, said the miller, you are very lazy. Really, considering that I am going to give you my wheelbarrow, I think you might work harder. Idleness is a great sin, and I do not want any of my friends to be idle or sluggish. You must not mind my speaking quite plainly to you. Of course, I should not dream of doing so if I were not your friend. But what is a good of friendship if one cannot say exactly what one means? Anybody can say charming things and try to please and to flatter, but a true friend always says unpleasant things and does not mind giving pain. Indeed, if he is a really true friend, he prefers it, for he knows that then he is doing good. I am very sorry, said little Hans, rubbing his eyes and pulling off his nightcap, but I was so tired that I thought I would lie in bed for a little time and listen to the bird singing. Do you know that I always work better after hearing the bird sing? Well, I am glad of that, said the miller, clapping little Hans in the back, for I want you to come up to the mill as soon as you are dressed and give me your handroof for me. Poor little Hans was very anxious to go and work in his garden, for his flowers had not been watered for two days, but he did not like to refuse the miller as he was such a good friend to him. Do you think it would be unfriendly of me if I said I was busy? He inquired in a shy and timid voice. Well, really, answered the miller. I do not think it is much to ask of you considering that I am going to give you my wheelbarrow, but, of course, if you refuse, I will go and do it myself. Oh, no! On no account, cried little Hans, and he jumped out of bed and dressed himself and went up to the barn. He worked there all day long till sunset, and at sunset, the miller came to see how he was getting on. Have you mended the hole in the roof yet, little Hans? Cried the miller in a cheery voice. It is quite mended, answered little Hans coming down the ladder. Ah, said the miller, there is no work so delightful as the work one does for others. It is certainly a great privilege to hear you talk, answered little Hans, sitting down and wiping his forehead. A very great privilege, but I am afraid I shall never have such beautiful ideas as you have. Oh, they will come to you, said the miller, but you must take more pains. At present you have only the practice of friendship. Someday you will have the theory also. Do you really think I shall? asked little Hans. I have no doubt of it, answered the miller, but now that you have mended the roof, you had better go home and rest, for I want you to drive my sheep to the mountain tomorrow. Poor little Hans was afraid to say anything to this, and early the next morning, the miller brought his sheep round it off with them to the mountain. It took him the whole day to get there and back, and when he returned he was so tired that he went off to sleep in his chair and did not wake up till it was broad daylight. What a delightful time I shall have in my garden, he said, and he went to work at once. But somehow he was never able to look after his flowers at all, for his friend the miller was always coming round and sending him off on long errands to the mill. Little Hans was very much distressed at times as he was afraid his flowers would think he had forgotten them, but he consoled himself by the reflection that the miller was his best friend. Besides, he used to say, he is going to give me his wheelbarrow and that is an act of pure generosity. So little Hans worked away for the miller, and the miller said all kinds of beautiful things about friendship, which Hans took down in a notebook of a very good scholar. Now it happened that one evening little Hans was sitting by his fireside when a loud rap came at the door. It was a very wild night and the wind was blowing and roaring around the house so terribly that at first he thought it was merely the storm, but a second rap came and then a third, louder than any of the others. It is some poor traveler, said little Hans to himself with a lantern in one hand and a big stick in the other. Dear little Hans, cried the miller, I am in great trouble. My little boy has fallen off a ladder and hurt himself and I am going for the doctor. But he lives so far away and it is such a bad night that it has just occurred to me that it would be much better if you went instead of me. You know I am going to give you my wheelbarrow and so it is only fair that you should do something for me. I take it quite as a compliment you are coming to see me and I will start off at once, but you must lend me your lantern as the night is so dark that I am afraid I may fall into the ditch. I am very sorry, answered the miller, but it is my new lantern and it will be a great loss to me if anything happened to it. Well never mind, I will do without it, cried little Hans around his throat and started off. What a dreadful storm it was. The night was so black that little Hans could hardly see and the wind was so strong that he could scarcely stand. However he was very courageous and after he had been walking about three hours he arrived at the doctor's house and knocked at the door. Who was there? cried the doctor putting his head out of his bedroom window. The miller's son has fallen from a ladder and has hurt himself and the miller wants you to come at once. All right, said the doctor and he ordered his horse and his big boots and his lantern and came downstairs and rode off in the direction of the miller's house, little Hans trudging behind him. But the storm grew worse and worse and the rain fell in torrents and little Hans could not see where he was going and wandered off on the moor, which was a very dangerous place as it was full of deep holes and there poor little Hans was drowned. His body was found the next day by some goat herds floating in a great pool of water and was brought back by them to the cottage. Everybody went to little Hans's funeral as he was so popular and the miller was the chief mourner. As I was his best friend to the miller, it is only fair that I should have the best place though he walked at the head of the procession in a long black cloak and every now and then he wiped his eyes with a big pocket handkerchief. Little Hans is certainly a great loss to everyone, said the blacksmith when the funeral was over and they were all seated comfortably in the inn drinking spiced wine and eating sweet cakes. A great loss to me at any rate, answered the miller, why I had as good given him my wheelbarrow and now I really don't know what to do with it. It is very much in my way at home and it is in such bad repair that I could not get anything for it if I sold it. I certainly will take care not to give away anything again. One always suffers for being generous. Well, said the water rat after a long pause, well that is the end, replied the miller but what became of the miller, asked the water rat oh I don't really know, replied the miller and I am sure that I don't care. It is quite evident then that you have no sympathy in your nature, said the water rat. I am afraid you don't quite see the moral of the story, remarked the miller the what? screamed the water rat, the moral. Well, really, said the water rat in a very angry manner. I think you should have told me that before you began. If you had done so, I certainly would not have listened to you. In fact, I should have said poo like the critic. However, I can say it now. So he shouted poo at the top of his voice gave a whisk with his tail and went back into his hole. And how do you like the water rat? asked the duck who came paddling up some minutes afterwards. Great many good points, but for my own part, I have a mother's feelings and I can never look at a confirmed bachelor without the tears coming into my eyes. I am rather afraid that I have annoyed him, answered the Lynette. The fact is that I told him a story with the moral. Ah, that is always a very dangerous thing to do to the duck and I quite agree with her. End of The devoted friend by Oscar Wilde by Johnny a female Solomon a Croatian tale by Anonymous this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org a female Solomon a Croatian tale there was once upon a time a poor man who lived in a hut alone with his daughter but his daughter was as wise as Solomon she went everywhere in search of alms and also taught her father what to say to obtain what he needed one day he chanced to solicit aid from the emperor who surprised at his manner of speaking asked him who he was and who it taught him to express himself in a way so much above his station my daughter Sire he answered and who taught your daughter asked the emperor it was God as well as our great misery was the reply take these thirty eggs to your daughter said the emperor and tell her to hatch chickens from them if she does not woe betide her the poor man went to his hut and told the story to his daughter she saw at once that the eggs were boiled but told her father to go to bed and she would see to everything he followed her advice for her part she took a pot filled it with water and beans and hung it over the fire then next morning when the beans were boiled she called her father and told him to take a plow up the earth by the side of the road where the emperor was to pass and she added when you see the emperor sow these beans and say in a loud voice God bless my boiled beans and make them grow then if the emperor asked how it is possible for boiled beans to grow answer that it is as easy to hatch a chicken the poor man did as he was bid he plowed up the ground sowed the beans and cried when he saw the emperor God bless my boiled beans and make them grow and when the emperor stopped and said poor fool how is it possible for boiled beans to grow he answered gracious emperor it is as easy as to hatch a chicken from a boiled egg the emperor knew that the daughter had prompted her father to act in this way he ordered his valets to bring the poor man before him then he gave him a small package of hemp and said take this and make of it sails, cordage and all that is needed for a vessel or else I will cut off your head the poor man took the package and returned drowned in tears to his daughter on hearing what had happened she told him to go to bed and that she would put matters right the next day she took a bit of wood awoke her father and said take this match to the emperor and let him make from it a spindle, a shuttle and a loom after which I will do what he asks the poor man once more followed his daughter's advice he went to the emperor and repeated what he had been bid to say the emperor was astonished after a moment's thought he took a goblet and giving it to the poor man said take this goblet to your daughter and tell her to bail out the ocean and make of it an arable field the poor man obeyed sign and carried the goblet to his daughter repeating the emperor's message again she told him to go to bed and leave the matter to her the next day she called him and gave him a bunch of tow saying take this to the emperor and let him stop up all the springs and the mouths of all the rivers after which I will bail out the sea when the emperor heard this he perceived that the maiden was wiser than he he ordered her to be brought before him and when they were face to face asked the question my girl can you tell me what is heard farthest off thunder and falsehood are heard farthest off gracious emperor she answered the emperor thereupon took his beard in his hand and turning to the courtiers said guess how much my beard is worth when they had all estimated its value some more and others less the damsel maintained to their face that none of them had guessed right saying the emperor's beard is worth three reins in a summer's drought the emperor was delighted and said she has guessed the nearest of all he asked her if she would be his wife adding that he would not let her go until she had consented the damsel bowed and said gracious emperor your will be done I only ask that you give me a writing in your own hand declaring that if at any time you grow tired of me and wish to send me away from you and out of the palace I shall have the right to carry away with me what I love best the emperor consented and gave her a writing sealed red wax and great official stamp of the empire it chanced after a time that the emperor grew tired of his wife as she had foreseen and said to her I will live with you no longer leave the palace and go where you please illustrious emperor answered the empress I will obey you only permit me to stay here I will go the emperor having granted this request before supper the empress mixed brandy and sweet herbs with the wine and persuaded him to drink of it saying drink and be merry tomorrow weep part and believe me I shall be happier than on my wedding day the emperor had scarcely swallowed the beverage the empress had him taken at once to a carriage which she had ready and carried him away with her to a grotto hewn in the rock unawakened he rubbed his eyes and looking around him at the strange spectacle cried where am I and who brought me here it was I why did you do this did I not tell you it is true that you said so returned she extending to him a paper but do you remember what you promised me in this writing on quitting the palace I had right to take away with me what I loved best in it and this dearest thing is you at these words the emperor's heart melted and he embraced her and they returned to the palace together and he gave her more to part end of a female Solomon a Croatian tale by Anonymous The Fiend a Russian folktale recorded by Alexander Athanasyev this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org The Fiend in a certain country they lived an old couple who had a daughter called Marusia Mary in their village it was customary to celebrate the feast of Saint Andrew the first called on November 30th the girls used to assemble in some cottage bake pampushki and enjoy themselves for a whole week or even longer well the girls met together once they arrived and brewed and baked what was wanted in the evening came the lads with the music bringing liquor with them and dancing and revelry commenced all the girls danced well but Marusia the best of all after a while they came into the cottage such a fine fellow Mary come up regular blood and milk and smartly and richly dressed the hail good youth say they your merry making be so good as to join us thereupon he pulled out of his pocket a purse full of gold ordered liquor, nuts and gingerbread all was ready in a trice and he began treating the lads and lasses giving each a share then he took to dancing why it was a treat to look at him Marusia struck his fancy more so he stuck close to her the time came for going home Marusia says he come and see me off she went to see him off Marusia sweetheart says he would you like me to marry you if you like to marry me I will gladly marry you but where do you come from from such and such a place I'm clerk at a merchants then they bade each other farewell and separated when Marusia got home her mother asked her well daughter have you enjoyed yourself yes mother but I have something pleasant to tell you besides there was a lad there from the neighbourhood good looking and with lots of money didn't he promise to marry me Harkia Marusia when you go to where the girls are tomorrow take a ball of thread with you and use of it and when you are going to see him off throw it over one of his buttons and quietly unroll the ball then by means of the thread you will be able to find out where he lives next day Marusia went to the gathering and took a ball of thread with her the youth came again good evening Marusia said he good evening games began and dances even more than before did he stick to Marusia not a step would he budge from her the time came for going home come and see me off Marusia says the stranger she went out into the street and while she was taking leave of him she quietly dropped the noose over one of his buttons he went his way but she remained where she was unrolling the ball when she had unrolled the whole of it she ran after the thread at first the thread followed the road then it stretched across hedges and ditches and led Marusia towards the church and right up to the porch Marusia tried the door it was locked she went round the church found a ladder set it against a window and climbed up to see what was going on inside having got into the church she looked and saw her betrothed standing beside a grave and devouring her body for a corpse had been left for that night in the church she wanted to get down the ladder quietly but her fright prevented her from taking proper heed and she made a little noise then she ran home almost beside herself fancing all the time she was being pursued she was all but dead before she got in next morning her mother asked her well Marusia did you see the youth but what else she had seen she did not tell in the morning Marusia was sitting considering whether she should go to the gathering or not go said her mother amuse yourself while you're young so she went to the gathering the fiend was there already games, fun, dancing began anew the girls knew nothing of what had happened when they began to separate and go homewards come Marusia see me off she was afraid and didn't stir then all the other girls opened out upon her what are you thinking about have you grown so bashful for sooth go and see the good lad off there was no help for it out she went not knowing what would come of it as soon as they got into the streets he began questioning her you were in the church last night no and saw what I was doing there no very well tomorrow your father will die having said this he disappeared Marusia returned home grave and sad when she woke up in the morning her father lay dead they wept and wailed over him and laid him in the coffin in the evening her mother went off to the priests but Marusia remained at home at last she became afraid of being alone in the house suppose I go to my friends she thought so she went and found the evil one there good evening Marusia why aren't you merry how can I be merry my father is dead oh poor thing they all grieved for her even the accursed one himself grieved just as if it hadn't all been his own doing by and by they began saying farewell and going home Marusia says he see me off she didn't want to what are you thinking of child insist the girls what are you afraid of so she went to see him off they passed out into the street tell me Marusia says he were you in the church no did you see what I was doing no very well tomorrow your mother will die he spoke and disappeared Marusia returned home sadder than ever the night went by next morning when she awoke her mother lay dead she cried all day long but when the sun set and it grew dark around Marusia became afraid of being left alone so she went why whatever's the matter with you you're clean out of countenance say the girls how am I likely to be cheerful yesterday my father died and today my mother poor thing poor unhappy girl they all exclaimed sympathizingly well the time came to say goodbye see me off Marusia says the fiend so she went to see him off tell me were you in the church no and saw what I was doing very well tomorrow evening you will die yourself Marusia spent the night with her friends in the morning she got up and considered what she should do she be thought herself that she had a grandmother an old very old woman who had become blind from length of years suppose I go and ask her advice she said and then went off to her grandmothers good day granny says she good day granddaughter what news is there with you how are your father and mother they are dead granny replied the girl and then told her all that had happened the old woman listened and said oh dear me my poor unhappy child go quickly to the priest and ask him this favour that if you die your body shall not be taken out of the house through the doorway but that the ground shall be dug away from under the threshold and that you shall be dragged out through that opening and also beg that you may be buried at a crossway at a spot where four roads meet Marusia went to the priest wept bitterly and made him promise to do everything according to her grandmother's instructions then she returned home bought a coffin and straight away expired well they told the priest and he buried first her father and mother and then Marusia herself her body was passed underneath the threshold and buried at a crossway soon afterwards a senior's son happened to drive past Marusia's grave on that grave he saw growing a wondrous flower such a one as he had never seen before said the young senior to his servant go pluck up that flower by the roots we'll take it home and put it in a flower pot perhaps it will blossom there well they dug up the flower took it home put it in a glazed flower pot and set it in a window the flower began to grow larger and more beautiful one night the servant hadn't gone to sleep somehow and he happened to be looking at the window when he saw a wondrous thing take place all of a sudden the flower began to tremble then it fell from its stem to the ground and turned into a lovely maiden the flower was beautiful but the maiden was more beautiful still she wandered from room to room got herself various things to eat and drink ate and drank then stamped upon the ground as before mounted to the window and resumed her place upon the stem next day the servant told the young senior of the wonders which he had seen during the night ah brother said the youth why didn't you wake me tonight we'll both keep watch together the night came they slept not but watched exactly at twelve o'clock the woman began to shake flew from place to place and then fell to the ground and the beautiful maiden appeared got herself things to eat and drink and sat down to supper the young senior rushed forward and seized her by her white hands impossible was it for him sufficiently to look at her to gaze on her beauty next morning he said to his father and mother please allow me to get married for bride only on this condition will I marry you that for four years I need not go to church very good said he well they were married and they lived together one year two years and had a son but one day they had visitors at their house who enjoyed themselves and drank and began bragging about their wives this one's wife was handsome that one's was handsomest still you may say what you like says the host but a handsomer wife than mine does not exist in the whole world handsome yes replied the guests but a heathen how so why she never goes to church her husband found these observations distasteful he waited till Sunday and then told his wife to get dressed I don't care what you may say says he go and get ready directly well they got ready and went to church the husband went in didn't see anything particular but when she looked around there was the fiend sitting at a window ha here you are at last he cried remember old times you in the church that night no and did you see what I was doing there no very well tomorrow both your husband and your son will die Maruzia rushed straight out of the church and away to her grandmother the old woman gave her two files the one full of holy water the other of the water of life she was to do next day both Maruzia's husband and her son died then the fiend came flying to her and asked tell me were you in the church I was and did you see what I was doing you were eating a corpse she spoke and splashed the holy water over him in a moment he turned into mere dust which blew to the winds afterwards she sprinkled her husband and her boy with water of life straight away they revived and from that time forward they knew neither sorrow nor separation but they all lived together long and happily end of the fiend a Russian folktale recorded by Alexander Afanasyev reading by Liam Borgstrom from Maine by Robert Nicolman this is a LibriVox recording while LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org this short story is from Mr. Nicolman's collection a hasty bunch published in Paris in 1922 Ronald Wallace arose every morning at 9 o'clock and putting on his lounging robe lighted the gas stove and put upon at the coffee pot replenished with fresh coffee every other morning rinsed out and given new coffee and fresh water three times a week while the coffee was coming to the point of boiling he would wash his teeth and face of late months he sometimes forgot to wash his teeth and recalling it later on in the day would be annoyed with himself to work at 10 o'clock exactly whether he was using a model or not if the paper house which was using a series of biblical illustrations in their advertising campaign had given him no new assignments he would sit down and read after having his coffee with bread and fried eggs the studio was a big place kept clean it would have smelled musty as the building was an old one but draperies, costumes he'd purchased numerous art periodicals dating back as far as 20 years lay in heaps and corners of the room or were stacked upon chairs trunks or cabinets and these added to the mustiness of the odor in his place for the last two years he'd stop reading light novels stories of adventure on the sea and of romance and gay social and behemian art cities in Europe the subject of religion was bothering him particularly because of the war and many young men who went down to death and who might better never have been born for all they got out of life if there is no afterlife every time a model posed for him who would talk or be at all interested in the subject of spiritualism Ronald would do much more resting and discussing that subject than he would do painting excepted but you can't know, you know he would state frequently as he talked my uncle in Maine he's 65 years old and lives alone in a big house with only an old woman for housekeeper keeps saying in his letters that I'm alone too much and should come and stay with him haha, that's him poor old soul, he's lonely and wanted to put it off on me I see people almost every week I have a model posing for me on the street to buy groceries or to get fresh air I see people sometimes people I know and I like to talk to just ordinary people clerks the news woman he said to his model one day as he was painting a picture that looked like a Sunday school card illustration it was to illustrate with a series of others the history of writing and in it an Egyptian king was dictating to his secretary who chipped out the dictation both the king and the secretary had on flowing garments the same model and the same bathrobe had served for both figures Ronald was painstaking consulting a book he had several times to be sure that he should miss none of the details of the period which he was illustrating one can't know though see the design on that sleeve now he said pointing to a picture in the book that's not chronological most illustrators don't know the exact points but after a moment's in decision he painted in the design as it was in the book Ronald was the kind of man particularly the kind of artist about whom it was easy to remark ineffective and beyond which it is difficult to make remarks which distinguish him a point just saw flesh had grown about his once finder body in the last five years his stomach obtruded his eyes were vaguely blue almost any bank clerk or bookkeeper past 35 and drooping into the fleshiness of drifting middle age could have posed for a portrait of him if the resemblance were not quite exact few people knew Ronald and fewer still noted his appearance to have remarked the enactness during the course of three hours Ronald would generally have told any number of strange incidents that people he'd heard about or knew somebody who knew incidents not quite explainable in a rational way I don't believe in spiritualism exactly you know but it's something to study it's in the air you know after all it's not much we understand now only the other morning I woke up thinking that my uncle was in trouble and that afternoon I got a letter saying he'd been quite ill that may be only a coincidence just floating about you quite generally the model posing for him had stories to add to his life is mysterious others than models are ready to discuss in question and wonder and wonder perhaps well strange things do happen reality itself is often the most unreal of qualities one model however a jaded minded being tired of discussion and not to be put to the effort of listening and answering said to Ronald the subject does not interest me true or untrue all the stories written up and in circulation it does not interest me there's nothing I can do about it perhaps I can do something about things more rational one world at a time for me the remark did not discourage Ronald in his conversation however but if one could speak with the dead or in some way be in touch with them we are in touch with the dead dead ideas, dead traditions dead moralities aren't there enough people amongst the ones called alive because they breathe to inflict their dull ideas on one why resuscitate the legion of harmless but oppressively stupid many dead beloved ones that have gone before us into that dim unknown the groping hoping sentimental naivete of Ronald was hurt by the remark that one time was the last time which that model posed for him but it did not matter existence went on somehow for them both probably the dependent clutching of Ronald to spiritualism for a fancy value it gave to his entity one launched into eternity with other spiritualistic entities then was a more clean clutch as time went on there was in his hopefulness about the subject in indecision and incompetence but these attitudes typified his attitudes in general for a certain length of time 15 years before at the art school Ronald had had a certain flair for the rebellious and self-identified in painting which flair was due to friendship with men of more reckless dispositions than his own during that period he was given to scoffing at his own new England type of training and the narrow conceptions of morality that had been bred into him for all the scoffing however the walls of restraint were up within him possibly if he had not been given a prize in school that made him hopeful that he might later secure the pretty Rome the stir of unrest and discontent with life would have carried him on into further discovery but the prize was the flattering hand that petted and conjoaled him back so that he applied himself earnestly to the study of the old masters well to study no doubt so that now any quality of mind or spirit that Ronald possessed was in no way unique to Ronald his studio was in a huge barn-like tenement on 14th street in the 7th Avenue direction off Greenwich Village outside his shuttered windows people pass, pass, pass night long and through the day and continual streams through the open shutters the beat of feet came to him tapping upon his consciousness at night as he lay in bed at the back end of his room after 12 o'clock at night the lights on the street were dim so that the streaks of light on the floor of his studio were faint and wavering by two o'clock few people would pass his window any longer when they did, however he almost always heard them as he slept lightly verging on the conscious till well along five in the morning there are innumerable cats in that section of New York and the voice qualities are as various as their number as many Contralto, Tenor Minor Dramatic Soprano after reading books on spiritualism or upon occult science Rhonda would put out the lights in his room and get into bed thoughts went revolving in his mind though perhaps not thoughts questions, reflections doubtings vague restless fears such times there was often added to his mental chaos the chaos of hungers in his body in his blood too for it seemed to him that a beast of desire into his mouth and a sting of desire into his limbs and blood his whole body seemed itching as though cobwebs and dust were clinging to him then perhaps the cats would start their ghoulish baby moaning yowls and scampering about screeching, groaning, torturously they made thumps and bumps that startled him and his half waking state on windy nights and there was a general rattle on the wind it seemed as though he were resting on some insecure precipice that might give way leaving him to fall, to fall, to fall into some abysmal inferno into regions of horrible tragic voice brutes of prey often it would be ten minutes before he could tell himself and believe that the screeching outside was only that of cats the clatter only that of rubbish and the wind and his tears banging because in his mind also were images beckoning and threatening playing dramas that passed in a moment seemed to him continuing through eternity dramas of desire and of denial of almost realization then collapse at last however the night would pass at about five or six as light began to come on and reality became something actual clear enough to be seen with his own eyes he would go to sleep exactly of his own accord at nine o'clock he was given to be rather boastful of that that he needed no alarm clock and never positively never overslept whether he had work to do or only would pass the day in reading and puttering about his studio and never completed room cleanings no one could ever accuse Ronald of not having regular habits if that is a matter about which there shall be accusation when he had arisen he made his coffee while it was coming to the point of boiling he washed and dressed then if a model came in he would ask the model's judgment about the appearance of a hand or a drapery or a group arrangement in the illustration he was working upon otherwise he read generally books on spiritualism were on the occult one never knows end of from Maine by Robert McGullman Gaffer Death by Anonymous this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Gaffer Death there was once a poor man who had twelve children and he was obliged to labor day and night that he might earn food for them as it happened a thirteenth came into the world the poor man did not know how to help himself so he ran out into the highway determined to ask the first person he met to be Godfather to the boy there came stocking up to him death who said take me for Godfather who are you asked the father I am death who makes all equal to the man you are one of the right sort you seize on rich and poor without distinction you shall be the child's Godfather death answered I will make the boy rich and renowned throughout the world for he who has me for a friend can want nothing said the man next Sunday he will be christened mind and come at the right time death accordingly appeared as he had promised and stood Godfather to the child when the boy grew up his Godfather came to him one day and took him into the wood and said now shall you have your Godfather's present I will make a most famous physician of you whenever you are called to a sick person I will take care and show myself to you if I stand and say boldly I will soon restore you to health and give the patient a little herb that I will point out to you and he will soon be well if however I stand at the head of the sick person he is mine then say all help is useless he must soon die then death showed him the little herb and said take heed that you never use it as a physician to my will it was not long before the young fellow was the most celebrated physician in the world the moment he sees a person said everyone he knows whether or not he will recover accordingly he was soon in great request people came from far and near to consult him and they gave him whatever he required so that he made an immense fortune now it so happened that the king was taken ill and the physician was called upon to say whether he must die as he went up to the bed he saw death standing at the sick man's head so that there was no chance of his recovery the physician thought however that if he outwitted death he would not perhaps be much offended seeing that he was his godfather so he caught hold of the king and turned him round so that by that means death was standing at his feet then he gave him some of the herb and the king recovered and he was once more well death came up to the physician with a very angry and gloomy countenance and said I will forgive you this time what you have done because I am your godfather but if you ever venture to betray me again you will take the consequences after this the king's daughter fell sick and nobody could cure her the old king wept night and day until his eyes were blinded and at last proclaimed that whosoever rescued her from death should be rewarded by marrying her and inheriting his throne the physician came but death was standing at the head of the princess when the physician saw the beauty of the king's daughter and thought of the promise that the king had made he forgot all the warnings he had received and although death frowned heavily all the while he turned the patient so that death stood at her feet and gave her some of the herb so that he once more put life into her veins when death saw that he was a second time cheated by the property he stepped up to the physician and said now follow me he laid hold of him with his icy cold hand and led him into a subterranean cave in which there were thousands and thousands of burning candles ranged in innumerable rows some were whole some half burnt out some nearly consumed for instance some went out and fresh ones were lighted so that the little flames seemed perpetually hopping about behold said death the life candles of mankind the large ones belonged to children those half consumed to middle aged people and the little ones to the aged yet children and young people have often times their life is at an end and they are mine the physician said show me my candle then death pointed out a very little candle end which was glimmering in the socket and said behold then the physician said oh dearest godfather light me up a new one that I may first enjoy my life be king and husband of the beautiful princess let do so said death one must burn out before I can light up another place the old one then upon a new one that they may burn on when this is at an end said the physician death pretended that he would comply with this wish and reached a large candle but to revenge himself purposely failed in putting it up the physician sank with it so he himself fell into the hands of death end of gaffer death by anonymous the hashish man from a dreamers tale by lord dunson this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org the hashish man by lord Dunson I was at a dinner in London the other day the ladies had gone upstairs and no one sat on my right on my left there was a man I did not know but he knew my name somehow apparently for he turned to me after a while and said I read a story of yours about Bethamora in a review of course I remembered the tale about a beautiful oriental city that was suddenly deserted in a day nobody quite knew why I said oh yes and slowly searched my mind for some more fitting acknowledgement of the compliment that his memory had paid me I was greatly astonished when he said you were wrong about the nosar sickness it was not that at all I said why have you been there and he said yes I do it with hashish I know Bethamora well and he took out of his pocket a small box filled with some black stuff that looked like tar but had a stranger smell he warned me not to touch it with my fingers as the stain remained for days I got it from a gypsy he said he had a lot of it as it had killed his father so I adopted him for I wanted to know for certain what it was that had made desolate the beautiful city Bethamora and why they fled from it swiftly in a day was it because of the desert's curse I asked and he said partly it was the fury of the desert and partly the advance of the emperor Thuba Mlee for that fearful beast is in some way connected to this story you remember the sailor with the black scar who was there on the day that you described when the messenger came on mules to the gate of Bethamora and all the people fled I met this man at a tavern drinking rum and he told me all about the flight from Bethamora but knew no more than you did what the message was or who had sent it however he said he had sent it to the eastern port even if he had to face the devil he often said that he would face the devil to find out the mystery of that message that emptied Bethamora in a day and in the end he had to face Thuba Mlee whose weak ferocity he had not imagined for one day the sailor told me he had found a ship and I met him no more after that in the tavern drinking rum I met a quantity that he did not want it takes one literally out of oneself it has wings you swoop over distant countries and into other worlds once I found out the secret of the universe I have forgotten what it was but I know the creator does not take creation seriously for I remember that he sat in space with all his works in front of him and laughed I have seen incredible things in fearful worlds that take you there so it is only by your imagination that you can get back once out of the ether I met a battered, prowling spirit that had belonged to a man whom drugs had killed a hundred years ago and he led me to regions that I had never imagined and we parted in anger beyond the Pleiades and I could not imagine my way back I met a huge gray shape that was the spirit perhaps of a whole star and I besought it to show me my way home and it halted beside me like a sudden wind and pointed and speaking softly asked me if I had discerned a certain tiny light and I saw a far star faintly and then it said to me that is the solar system and strode tremendously on and somehow I imagined my way back and only just in time for my body was already stiffening in the chair in my room and the fire had gone out and everything was cold and I had to move each finger one by one and there were pins and needles in them and dreadful pains in the nails which began to thaw and at last I could move one arm and reach a bell and for a long time no one came because everyone was in bed but at last a man appeared at a doctor and he said it was hashish poisoning but it would have been all right if I hadn't met that battered prowling spirit I could tell you astonishing things that I have seen but you want to know who sent that message to Bethamora well it was Thuba Malin and this is how I know I often went to the city after that day that you wrote of I used to take hashish in an evening in my flat sand had poured into it from the desert and the streets were yellow and smooth and through open swinging doors the sand had drifted one evening I put the guard in front of the fire and settled into a chair and eaten my hashish and the first thing that I saw when I came to Bethamora was the sailor with a black scar strolling down the street and now I knew that I should see what secret power it was that kept Bethamora uninhabited I saw that there was anger in the desert for there were storm clouds heaving along the skyline and I heard a muttering among the sand the sailor strode on down the street looking into the empty houses as he went sometimes he shouted and sometimes he sang and sometimes he wrote his name on the marble wall then he sat down on a step after a while he grew tired of the city and came back up the street as he reached the gate of Green Copper three men on camels appeared I could do nothing I was only a consciousness invisible wandering my body was in Europe the sailor fought well with his fists but he was overpowered and bound with ropes and led away through the desert I followed for as long as I could stay and found that they were going by the way of the desert round the hills of Hap toward Utnarvehi and then I knew that the camelman belonged to Thubam Lin I work in an insurance office all day and I hope you won't forget me if you ever want to insure life, fire or motor but that's no part of my story I was desperately anxious to get back to my flat though it was not good to take Hashish two days running I wanted to see what they would do to the poor fellow for I had heard bad rumors about Thubam Lin when at last I got away I had a letter to write then I rang for my servant and told him that I must not be disturbed though I left the door unlocked in case of accidents after that I made a good fire and sat down and partook of a pot of dreams I was going to the palace of Thubam Lin by the noises in the street but suddenly I was up above the town the European countries rushed by beneath me and there appeared the thin white palace spires of horrible Thubam Lin I found him presently at the end of a little narrow room a curtain of red leather hung behind him on which all the names of God written in Yanish were worked with golden thread three windows were small and high the emperor seemed no more than about twenty and looked small and weak no smiles came on his nasty yellow face though he tittered continually as I looked from his low forehead to his quivering underlip I became aware that there was some horror about him though I was not able to perceive what it was and then I saw it the man never blinked and though later on it happened once then I followed the emperor's wrapped gaze and I saw the sailor lying on the floor alive but hideously rent and the royal torturers were at work all around him they had torn long strips from him but had not detached them and they were torturing the ends of them far away from the sailor the man which I met at dinner told me many things which I must omit and every time he groaned thubham lean twittered I had no sense of smell but I could hear and see and I do not know which was the most revolting the terrible condition of the sailor or the happy unblinking face of the horrible thubham lean I wanted to go away but the time was not yet come and I had to stay where I was suddenly the emperor's face began to twitch violently and his underlip quivered faster and he whimpered with anger and cried with a shrill voice in Yannish to the captain of his torturers that there was a spirit in the room I feared not for living men cannot lay hands on a spirit but all the torturers were appalled by his anger and stopped their work for their hands trembled with fear then two men of the spear guard slipped from the room and each of them brought back a bowl with knobs on it full of hashish and the bowls were large enough for heads to have floated in had they been filled with blood and the two men fell too rapidly each eating with two great spoons there was enough in each spoonful to have given dreams to a hundred men and there came upon them soon a hashish state and their spirits hovered prepared to go free while I feared horribly but even and anon they fell back again to the bodies recalled by some noise in the room still the men ate but lazily now and without ferocity at last the great spoons dropped out of their hands and their spirits rose and left them I could not flee and the spirits were more horrible than the men because they were young men with beautiful souls still the sailor groaned softly evoking little titters from the Emperor Thubham Lane then the two spirits rushed me and swept me thence as gusts of wind sweep butterflies and away we went from the small pale heinous man there was no escaping from these spirits fierce insistence the energy in my minute lump of the drug was overwhelmed by the huge spoonful that these men had eaten I was whirled over arveil and brought to the lands of sniff and swept on still until I came to Crangla and beyond this to those bleak lands that are nearly unknown to fancy and we came at last to those ivory hills that are known as the mountains of madness and I tried to struggle against the spirits of that frightful Emperor's men for I heard on the other side these beasts that prayed on the mad as they prowled up and down it was no fault of mine that my little lump of hashish could not fight with their horrible spoonfuls someone was tugging at the hall door bell presently a servant came and told our host that a policeman in the hall wished to speak to him at once he apologized to us and went outside to talk to him my friend got up and walked over to the window and opened it and looked outside I should think it will be a fine night he said then he jumped out when we put our astonished heads out the window to look for him he was already out of sight the end of the hashish man by Lord Duncene James and Reginald by Eugene Field once upon a time there was a bad boy whose name was Reginald and there was a good boy whose name was James Reginald a very beautiful man a young boy a very strong one he got up and got out of his room he was out of his room would go fishing when his mama told him not to, and he cut off the cat's tail with a bread knife one day and then told mama that the baby had driven it in with a rolling pin, which was a lie. James was always obedient and when his mama told him not to help an old blind man across the street or go into a dark room where the boogies were, he always did what she said. That was why they called him Good James. Well, by and by along came Christmas. Mama said, you've been so bad, my son Reginald, you will not get any presents from Santa Claus this year, but you, my son James, will get oodles of presents because you have been good. Will you believe it, children, that bad boy Reginald said he didn't care at darn and he kicked three feet of veneer off the piano just for meanness. Poor James was so sorry for Reginald that he cried for half an hour after he went to bed that night. Reginald lay wide awake until he saw James was asleep and then he said, if these people think they can fool me, they are mistaken. Just then Santa Claus came down the chimney. He had lots of pretty toys in a sack on his back. Reginald shut his eyes and pretended to be asleep. Then Santa Claus said, Reginald is bad and I will not put anything in his stocking, but as for you, James, I will fill your stocking plumful of toys because you are good. So Santa Claus went to work and put, oh, heaps and heaps of goodies in James stocking, but not a sign of a thing in Reginald's stocking. Then he laughed to himself and said, I guess Reginald will be sorry tomorrow because he was so bad. As he said this he crawled up the chimney and rode off in his sleigh. Now you can bet your boots Reginald was no spring chicken. He just got right straight out of bed and changed those toys and truck from James's stocking to his own. Santa Claus will have to sit up all night, said he, when he expects to get away with my baggage. The next morning James got out of bed and when he said his prayers he limped over to his stocking, licking his chops and carrying his head as high as a bull going through a brushed fence. But when he found there was nothing in his stocking and that Reginald's stocking was as full as Papa is when he comes home late from the office, he sat down on the floor and began to wonder why on earth he had been such a good boy. Reginald spent a happy Christmas and James was very miserable. After all children it pays to be bad so long as you combine intellect with crime. The end of James and Reginald by Eugene Field.