 CHAPTER I. OF THE FERRE TREE FAIRY BOOK. This is a LibraVox recording. All LibraVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibraVox.org. THE FURRE TREE FAIRY BOOK. By Clifton Johnson. THE PIDE PIPER. There is a sleepy little town by the seashore, which for a time long ago was decidedly noisy, but the noise was not so much due to the number of people in the place or the traffic on the streets, as it was to the fact that the town had been invaded by a horde of rats. Such an invasion had never been seen before, nor ever will be seen again. The place was scarcely worth living in, so infested was it with these rats. The people found them in their breeches or petticoats when they put on their clothes in the morning. And it was nothing unusual to discover a rat's nest in one's shoes or pockets, or in one's Sunday hat or bonnet. The rats were great black creatures that ran boldly through the streets in broad daylight, and swarmed all over the houses. There was not a barn, or a corn-rick, or a storeroom, or a cupboard, but they nod their way into it. They fought the dogs and killed the cats, and bit the babies in their cradles, and ate the cheeses out of the vats, and licked the soup from the cook's own ladle. Even the barrels of beer were not safe from them. They would gnaw a hole in the barrel-head, and into this hole some master rat would thrust his tail, and when he withdrew it, dripping with beer, all his friends and relatives would crowd around, and each would have a suck at the tail. They were bad enough in the daytime, but they were still worse at night. And they were busy everywhere, in the walls and ceilings, and also in the rooms from cellar to garret. There was such a chase and a rummage, and such a squeaking and squealing and such a noise as of gimlets, pincers, and saws that a deaf man could not have rested for one hour together. The people could hardly hear themselves think, and many a mother felt obliged to sit up and keep watch over her children, lest some big ugly rat should run across their faces. Cats and dogs, poison and traps were of no avail, nor were prayers any more effective. Of course, many of the rats were killed, yet others constantly came to take the place of the dead ones. The mayor and the town council were at their wit's end. They were sitting one day in the town hall, racking their brains, when a queer-looking stranger arrived in a place. As he dreamt up the chief street, he played the bagpipes, pausing in his playing, now and then, to sing this refrain. Who lives shall see, this is he, the rat-catcher. He was a tall, gawky fellow with swarthy skin, a crooked nose, a long mustache, and piercing eyes. His broad-brin-felt hat had a starlit cox feather stuck into its band, and there was not a color of the rainbow that could not be found in his jacket and breeches. A leather belt girded his waist, and on his feet were sandals, fastened by thongs, passed round his legs. He stopped in the great market-place before the town hall, and went on with his piping and singing. The town beetle heard the purport of the song, and asked the stranger if he could rid the town of the rats, with which it was overrun. Yes, was the reply, if he will make it worth my while. Then the beetle hurried off to report the stranger's word to the council. As he approached their place of meeting, the mayor was saying, What to do, I know not, my poor headaches, I've scratched it so, and all in vain. Just as he said this, what should happen, at the chamber door, but a gentle tap. Missus cried the mayor, What's that? Anything like the sound of a rat makes my heart go pit-a-pat. Then he said, in a louder voice, Come in, and the beetle entered. Please, your honor, said the beetle, a very queer fellow has come to town who says he is a rat-catcher, and that he can clear the place of rats if we make it worth his while. Then he is a sorcerer, said the counsellors with one voice. We must beware of him. The mayor, who was considered clever, reassured them. Sorcerer or not, said he, if this bagpiper speaks the truth. I doubt not it was he who sent us this horrible vermin, in order to get money from us for inducing them to go away. Well, we must catch the evil-minded in their own snares. You leave it to me. Leave it to the mayor, said the counsellors one to the other. Show him in, said the mayor, and the beetle soon brought the rat-catcher before them. I am called the pied-piper, he said, and rat-catching is my trade. What would you pay me to rid you of every rat in the town? Much as they disliked the rats, they disliked parting with their money still more. And they feigned would have higgled and haggled. But the pied-piper was not a man to stand nonsense. In the upshot of the matter was that they agreed to pay him at the rate of a penny ahead as soon as there was not a rat left to squeak or scurry in the place. The bagpiper announced that he would operate that very evening when the moon rose, and he requested that the inhabitants should leave the streets free and content themselves with looking out of their windows while he was at his task. When the townspeople heard of the bargain they exclaimed, A penny ahead! This will cost us a great deal of money. Leave it to the mayor, to the town counsellors, with a sly shrug of the shoulders. Toward nine o'clock the piper reappeared in the marketplace, and as soon as the moon showed above the roofs he put his bagpipes to his lips, and began a shrill, keen tune that penetrated to the remotest nooks and alleys of the town. Then a strange sight was seen. From every hole the rats came tumbling, and ran to the marketplace until it was so full of them that the pavement was hidden from sight. At length the piper faced about, and still playing briskly went down a street that led toward the harbour. At his heels followed the rats with eager feet and upturned noses. Every fifty yards he stopped, and gave an extra flourish of the pipes, while he waited for the toddling little rats and the less vigorous ones to catch up with those that were stronger. Meanwhile the townsfolk looked on from their windows, and many a blessing they called down on his head. But he reached the harbour, and had marched to the outer end of a wharf. He turned about and looked at the multitude of rats. Hop-hop! he cried, pointing with his finger toward the water. Not far from the end of the wharf a big whirlpool had formed, and the rats, obedient to the piper's orders, began to leap from the wharf, and swim straight to the centre of the whirlpool, where they disappeared. Rats continued till midnight, when only one rat was left, a big rat, white with age, who dragged himself along with difficulty. It was the king of the band. Are they all there, friend Whitey? asked the piper. They are all there, replied Whitey. How many? the piper questioned. Nine hundred and ninety-nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety-nine, was the answer. Then go and join them, old sire, said the piper. Goodbye. So the odd rat jumped into the water, swam to the whirlpool, and down he went out of sight. The piper walked back into the town, and went to bed at an end, and for the first time in three months the people slept quietly through the night. There was no noise to disturb them, and they slept the more serenely, because now there was a prospect they would have a chance to enjoy food that the rats had not tasted before them. In the morning so rejoiced were they over their delivery from the plague of vermin, that they threw up their caps and hurrah! and they rang the church bells till they rocked the steeples. But at nine o'clock when the piper went to the town hall to get his pay, the mayor and the council and the townsfolk generally began to hum and haw and to shake their heads, for where was all that money to come from? Besides, it had been a very easy job that the piper had done, and had only taken him a little while. Sirs? said the piper. All your rats took a jump into the harbour last night, and I guarantee that not one of them will come back. There were one million, and you can reckon how much is due me at a penny ahead. My good man, said the mayor, you must know that we are poor folk. Surely you will not ask us to pay such a sum. I only want you to do, as you agreed to do, responded the piper. Ha! said the mayor, then let us reckon the heads. Have the kindness to bring them here, that we may count them. The rat-catcher did not expect this treacherous stroke. He paled with anger, and his eyes flashed fire. The heads, he cried, if you care about them, go and find them in the harbour. So you refused to hold to the terms of your bargain, said the mayor. You have good reason to refuse you all payment, but you have been of use to us, and we will be glad to recompense you, to the extent of twenty pounds. Keep your recompense to yourself, retorted the rat-catcher proudly. It would be better for you, if you pay me quickly, all that is my due, for I can pipe many kinds of tunes, as folk sometimes find to their cost. If you do not pay me, I will be paid by your heirs. Would you threaten us, you strolling vagabond, shrieked the mayor, be gone and do your worst, now that the rats are drowned? Very well, said the piper, and he pulled his hat down over his eyes, turned short on his heel, and left the hall. The townspeople were much pleased over this outcome. They rubbed their hands gleefully, and laughed over the rat-catcher, who they said was caught in his own trap. Above all, they laughed at his threat of getting himself paid by their heirs. Ha-ha-ha! But when the piper reached the market place, he again put his pipes to his lips. This time there came forth no shrill notes, but a tune that was joyous and resonant, full of happy laughter and merry play. At this call the children all ran forth to the piper, from school room and playroom and nursery. Every little boy and girl in town, hurried to the market place, attracted by the magic music, then the stranger began to walk up a street that led out of the town. And they followed him, dancing, laughing and singing. Small feet were pattering, wooden shoes clattering, little hands clapping, and little tongues chattering. On they went, out of the town gate, and into a forest that was nearby, a forest full of old oaks and wide-spreading beaches. In among the trees went the piper, in his many-colored garments, and the laughter of the children gradually faded away, as they went deeper and deeper into the cool green wood. Hour after hour passed, and the children did not return. Then their parents went in search of them. But at nightfall came back desolate to the town, nor was searching in future days any better rewarded. The mayor sent east, west, north, and south to offer the piper if he could be found. Silver and gold to his heart's content, if he'd only return the way he went and bring the children behind him. But never were the hearts of the town's people gladdened by the sight of the piper, and his following of singing, dancing children issuing from the ancient oaks of the forest. What became of the children is a mystery, even to this day. End of Chapter 1, Recording by Greg Giordano, Newport Richie, Florida. Chapter 2 of the Furry Tree Fairy Book. 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 Emanuel Zornberg. The Fur Tree Fairy Book by Clifton Johnson, Chapter 2. The Fur Tree. On the borders of a forest, a pretty little fur tree once started to grow. The sun shone full on him. The breezes played freely around him, and in the neighborhood grew many companion fur trees, both large and small. But the little fur tree was not happy. He was always longing to be full grown. He thought not of the warm sun and the fresh air. He took no pleasure in the songs of birds or in the clouds that sailed over him. He cared not for the merry, prattling peasant children who came to the forest to look for berries. By and by it was winter, and the ground was covered with the glistening snow. Then the fur tree often saw a hair scampering about, and sometimes the hair would jump right over the little fur tree's head. The tree did not like that at all. However, when two winters had passed, the fur tree was so tall, the hair was obliged to run around him. For each year, he sent upward a long green shoot, just as all fur trees do. And you could tell how old he was by counting the number of joints on the main stem. Oh, that I was as tall as the big trees I see near me, side the little tree. Then I should spread out my branches so far, and I could look over the wide world around. The birds would build their nests among my branches. And when the wind blew, I would bend my head so grandly, just as all the big trees do. Yes, I want to become tall and old. That is the only thing worth living for. Every autumn, the woodcutters came and felled some of the largest trees. The young fur tree shuddered when he saw the grand trees crash to the ground. He watched the men chop off all the boughs from the fallen trees, and how terribly naked and lanky and long they looked then. They could hardly be recognized. Finally, they were loaded on wagons and were drawn away from the forest. Where could they be going? What might be their fortunes? When it was spring and the swallows and the storks returned from the south, the tree called to them and said, know you wither they have taken the great trees that have been cut. Have you met these friends of mine? The swallows knew nothing about the matter, but one of the storks looked thoughtful for a moment, nodded his head and said, yes, I believe I have seen them. As I was flying from Egypt to this place, I noticed several ships, and those ships had splendid masts. I have little doubt those masts were the trees of which you speak. They supported the sails so that the ships moved on gloriously. Oh, that I too were tall enough to be a mast and journey on the sea, exclaimed the fir tree. Rejoice in your youth, said the sunbeams. Rejoice in the fresh life that is within you. And the sunbeams caressed the tree, and the wind kissed him, but he understood them not. Christmas was drawing near after the little fir tree had lived and grown for several years, and many small trees were felled by the woodmen. Some were no taller than the restless young fir tree, who was always longing to be away. The branches were not cut off, but the trees were put on wagons, green boughs and all. When the wagons had gone, the fir tree asked where his companions were being taken. We know, we know, twittered the sparrows. They are on the way to the town. You cannot imagine what honor and glory they will receive. We have peeped through the house windows in years gone by, and we know they will be planted in a warm room and be decked with the most beautiful things, sweet meats, play things, and hundreds of bright candles. And what happens afterward, asked the fir tree, quivering with excitement in every bow. We saw no more, the sparrows replied. But what we did see was beautiful beyond compare. That is far better than sailing over the sea, cried the fir tree with delight. How I wish such a glorious lot might be mine, and there must be something still better to follow. Else, why should anyone take such trouble to decorate the trees? Rejoice in our love, said the air and the sunshine. Rejoice in your freedom. But rejoice he never would. Time went on, and he grew more and more sturdy, and full of dark green foliage. And when the next Christmas drew near, he was the first tree that was cut. Then, for a moment, he forgot to think of his good fortune, and was sorry to be compelled to leave his home. He knew he should not see the other trees again, or the little bushes and flowers that had flourished under his shadow, perhaps not even the birds. At last, he found himself in the courtyard of a house in the town wither he had been carried with a load of his fellows. And a man picked him out from among the rest and said, this is a beautiful one, the very thing we want. Then two smartly dressed servants came, and carried the fir tree into a large and handsome parlor, where he was planted in a stout tub filled with sand. A young lady, assisted by the servants, now began to adorn him. On some branches, they hung little bags filled with candy. From others, apples and walnuts were suspended, looking just as if they had grown there. And a great number of tiny wax tapers, red, white, and blue, were fastened to the boughs. Here and there were hung dolls and picture books and toys, and on the summit was fastened a large star of gold tinsel. This was indeed splendid. In the evening, the tree will be lighted up, they said. Would that it were evening, thought the tree? Would that the candles were already lighted? What will happen then? Will the trees come out of the forest to see me? Will the sparrows look in at the windows? Shall I stand here adorned both winter and summer? At last, evening came, and the candles were lighted. Oh, what radiance! The tree trembled in all his branches, so that one of the lights set fire to a bow. Heaven preserve us, exclaimed the young ladies, and they sprang forward and extinguished the flame. The tree dared not tremble again, though he felt greatly bewildered in the midst of all this glory and brightness. Suddenly both the folding doors that communicated with the next room were flung open, and a troop of children rushed in. The older people followed more quietly. At first the children gathered about the tree, soberly gazing and admiring. Then they began dancing and shouting and tearing off the presents. What are they doing, thought the tree? What will happen now? The candles burned down to the branches and were blown out, and the children amused themselves with their beautiful playthings. No one thought any more of the tree, except the old nurse, who came and peeped among the bows, but it was only to see whether perchance and apple or a candy bag had been left among them. Later in the evening the children tired of their play and begged their father to tell a story. Very well, said he, would you like to hear about Chicken Licken or about Thumpty Clump, who fell down the stairs, but afterward won a princess and came to a throne? Chicken Licken, cried some, Thumpty Clump, cried others, and there was a great uproar. When they grew quieter the man told the story of Thumpty Clump, and as soon as he had finished the children clapped their hands and called for another story, but they did not get it. The fir tree stood meanwhile, quite silent and thoughtful. The birds in the forest never related anything like this, said he. Thumpty Clump fell down stairs, and yet won a princess and was raised to a throne? Yes, yes, strange things come to pass in the world. Who knows, but I may fall down stairs and win a princess. He rejoiced in the expectation of being next day again decked out with candles and glittering ornaments and playthings. In the morning the maids came in. Now begins my magnificence anew, said the tree to himself, but they dragged him out of the room, up the stairs, and into an attic, where they thrust him into a dark corner and left him. What can be the meaning of this, thought the tree? What am I to do here? And he leaned against the wall and thought and thought. He had plenty of time to think, as much as he pleased, for day after day and night after night passed, and yet no one entered the attic. It is winter, said the tree. The ground is hard and covered with snow. They cannot plant me now. So I am to stay in shelter till spring. How kind they are. I only wish it was not so dark and so dreadfully lonesome. Squeak, squeak, cried a little mouse, just then gliding out of a hole in the wall. Another followed. They snuffed at the fir tree and slipped in and out among the branches. It is horribly cold, said the little mice. Don't you think so, you old fir tree? I am not old, responded the fir tree. There are many trees much older than I am. How came you here? questioned the mice. And what do you know? Tell us about the most delightful place on earth. Have you ever been there? Have you been into the storeroom, where cheeses lie on the shelves, and bacon hangs from the ceiling, where one can dance over tallow candles, where one goes in thin and comes out fat? I know nothing about that. The fir tree answered. But I know the forest, where the sun shines and where the birds sing. Then he spoke of his youth and its pleasures. The little mice had never heard anything like it before. They listened with all their ears and said, Well, to be sure, how much you have seen, how happy you have been. Happy, repeated the fir tree in surprise. And he thought a moment over all he had been saying. Yes, on the whole, those were pleasant times. He then told about the Christmas Eve, when he had been decked with toys and candles. Oh, cried the little mice, how happy you have been, you old fir tree. I am not old at all, declared the tree. And it is only this winter that I left the forest. How well you can talk, said the little mice. And the next night they came again and brought with them four other little mice who also wanted to hear the tree's history. The more the tree spoke of his youth in the forest, the more vividly he remembered it. Those were pleasant times, he remarked in conclusion. And they may come again. Dumpty clump fell downstairs. And yet for all that he won the princess. Perhaps I too may win a princess. And then the fir tree thought of a pretty little birch tree that grew in the forest. She was a very real and very lovely princess to him. Who is this Dumpty clump? The little mice inquired. So he related the tale. He could remember every word of it perfectly. And the little mice were so pleased they jumped for joy. The night following, several more mice came. And on Sunday they returned and brought with them two rats. The rats, however, declared that the story was not at all amusing. And the little mice, after hearing the rat's opinion, did not like it so well either. Do you know only that one story? Asked the rats. Only that one answered the tree. I heard it on the happiest evening of my life, though I did not then know how happy I was. It is a miserable story, the rats declared. Do you know none about pork and tallow? Don't you know some storeroom story? No, said the tree. Well then, we have heard enough, said the rats, and they went their way. They did not come again, nor did the little mice. As the lonely days passed, the tree sighed and said, it was very pleasant when those lively little mice sat around me listening to my words. Now that, too, is all past. However, I still have the pleasure of remembering it. One morning, people came and gave the attic a cleaning out. The tree was dragged from the corner and carried downstairs. Once more, he beheld the outdoor daylight. Life is about to begin again, he thought. He felt the fresh air and the warm sunbeams. He was out in the court and the court adjoined a garden where everything was fresh and blooming. The roses clustered bright and fragrant around the trellis work. The apple trees were in blossom and the swallows flew backward and forward, twittering. Queery, weary, fit, my beloved is come. But it was not the fir tree whom they meant. The tree was filled with delightful hope. He tried to spread out his branches. Alas, they were all dry and stiff. He was thrown down on a heap of weeds and rubbish. The star that had been fastened on his top sparkled brightly in the sunshine. Some children were playing in the court. They were the same who at Christmas time had danced round the tree in that parlor. The youngest perceived the gold star and ran to tear it off. Look at it, still on the ugly old Christmas tree. Cried he, trampling and breaking the boughs under his feet. The tree looked at the flowers of the garden blooming in the freshness of their beauty. And he called to mind his happy forest life, the merry Christmas Eve, and the little mice who had listened so eagerly when he relayed the story of Tumpti Klump. Past, all past, sighed the poor tree. Presently, a servant came and set fire to the rubbish heap. The children all ran to the place and jumped about in front of the blaze, crying, hurrah, hurrah! The tree burned to ashes and the fire flickered out. Then the boys began to play about in the court as before. And on the breast of the youngest, sparkled the gold star that the tree had worn on the happiest evening of his life. But now the tree has come to an end. And the story also has come to an end. End of chapter two. Chapter three of the Fertree Fairy Book. 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 Craig Franklin. The Fertree Fairy Book by Clifton Johnson. Chapter three. The Babes in the Wood. A great many years ago, there was a brave and kind gentleman who was held in high esteem by all who knew him. His wife was good and beautiful, and they loved each other most tenderly. They lived together happily for many years, but at last the gentleman fell sick, and day after day he grew worse. So grieved was his lady by his illness that she too sickened. No medicine or anything else gave them any relief, but they realized that soon they would die. It troubled them greatly to think that they would be taken away from their two children, one a fine boy three years old, and the other a pretty little girl, not quite two. They talked together about the children's future and decided to give their babes into the care of the gentleman's brother. He was sent for, and when he came, the dying man said to him, Ah, brother, you can plainly see that the time of both my wife and myself on earth is short. As for pain or death, we fear them not, but we are distressed to think of what our poor babes will do without their parents. Brother, they will have no one but you to be kind to them, and I commend them to your care. If you treat them well, said the mother, God will reward you. Have no fear as to my taking good care of them, said the brother, may God never prosper me or mine if I should do them wrong. Not long afterward the gentleman and the lady died, and they were buried side by side in the same grave. It was found that the gentleman's will gave his son 300 pounds a year after he came of age, and the girl was to be paid 500 pounds in gold on the day that she married. But if they happened to die before the money was paid to them, their property was all to go to their uncle. He took them to his own home, and for a time made much of them and showed them great kindness. At length, however, he began to covet their wealth and to wish that they were dead so he could possess it, but they continued sturdy and well. Finally, he said to himself, it would not be very difficult for me to have them killed in such a way that my neighbours would never suspicion that I was responsible for the deed. Then their property would be mine, and that would be the end of the matter. With this thought in mind, the cruel uncle soon determined how to dispose of the children. He hired two burly ruffians who were used to doing desperate deeds to take the little boy and girl into a thick dark wood some distance away and slay them. To his wife, he told an artful story of intending to send the children to London where they could be brought up by one of his friends. Would you not like that, my pretty ones? He said to them, you will see famous London town and you, my lad, can buy a fine wooden horse there and ride on it all day long and you can buy a whip to make him gallop and you can buy a sword to wear by your side. As for your sister, she shall have pretty frocks and she shall have dolls and other nice playthings. Oh yes, I will go, uncle, said the little boy. Goodie, goodie, said the little girl, and I will go too. So he got them ready as if for a long journey and sent them off in a fine coach in charge of the two wretches. As they rode along, the children prattled pleasantly to the men who intended to be their butchers. When they reached the borders of the dark thick wood, the ruffians took their charges out of the coach and told them they might walk a little way and gather some flowers. While the children were running about, the men turned their backs on them and began to talk about what they had to do. Truly, said one, now that I have seen their sweet faces and heard their pretty talk, I have no heart to do the cruel deed. Oh, if I, said the other, but we have been paid so much to do this thing that I shall complete my part of the bargain. The more kindly disposed ruffian would not agree to such a course and they argued till they got angry and began to fight. They drew the big knives with which they had planned to kill the babes and the one who wished to spare the children stabbed his comrade so that the fellow fell dead in the grass. The victor now knew not what to do with the children for he wanted to get away as quickly as possible lest he should be found there and made to suffer for the death of his companion. He thought the best thing he could do would be to leave them in the wood and trust that they would be kindly treated by whoever passed that way and discovered them. So he went to where they had rambled in their flower-picking and said, Take my hands and come with me. For two long miles he led them on and then they began to complain that they were hungry. Stay here, quoth he, and I will go and get you something to eat. So away he went and the babes sat there a long time waiting for him to return. Will the strange man come soon with some cakes for us? said the little girl. In a little while, I think, responded the boy. I wish I had some cakes, said she. Then they stood up and looked all about as far as they could among the trees and no one could they see. They listened too, but heard no sound of approaching footsteps, nothing, only the wind fluttering in the foliage above their heads. Perhaps we had better go to meet the man, said the boy, and hand in hand they wandered about in the wood. They found some blackberries and stained their lips eating them. At last night came and they sat down and cried themselves to sleep. When day dawned again, they resumed their wandering, but they could not find their way out of the wood, nor were they any more successful in the days that followed. And as they could not live on blackberries, they died. There was no one to bury the pretty babes. But Robin Redbreast saw them lying in the woodland and he covered them with leaves. Meanwhile, the wicked uncle supposed they had been killed according to his orders and he let it be understood that they had died in London of the smallpox. He took their fortune to himself and thought he had provided amply for his comfort and pleasure to the end of his days. But instead of happiness, he experienced only misfortune. He had no peace of mind because he had an evil conscience and his thoughts dwelt on the death of the babes. Moreover, his barns burnt, his harvests failed, his cattle died in the field and his two sons, who had gone on a voyage to Portugal, were wrecked and drowned. In the end, he was brought to want and misery. He pawned his jewels and mortgaged his land and he was thrown into jail for debt and there died. About that time, the Ruffian who had left the children in the wood was captured after committing some crime and was sentenced to be hanged. When he knew that he must die, he sent for the keeper of the prison where he had been shut up and confessed all the wicked deeds he'd done. Among other things, he told of the two babes he and his companion had been hired to kill. And thus, their sad fate was made known. End of Chapter 3 Chapter 4 of the Fur Tree Fairy Book 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 Nan Dodge. The Fur Tree Fairy Book by Clifton Johnson. Alexander Jones. Gene Mulvill Wee-Bit East requested the town clerk as he sat at one end of the high-backed bench before his fire on a chilly autumn evening. He had taken too much room. You have more than your share of the seat. But Gene, his wife, had just got her knitting into a tangle and was not in the best of humor. So she declined to move an inch or to attend to what her husband was saying. Gene, he said again, Mulvill Wee-Bit East, it's not right to sit so selfish. I'm at the very end of the bench and here you are with your elbows digging into me. Sit a bit East, do you hear? And when she did not respond, the town clerk gave his wife a rude shove. What do you mean by pushing me like that? She demanded. What do you mean by East? There's no such thing as East and I can prove it. No such thing as East shouted the town clerk. Will you not believe the sun? Then he affirmed in a loud voice that as the sun went around the earth every day and was always rising every moment somewhere in the East, therefore everywhere was the East all over the world. So he hoped his wife would not make a goose of herself and talk nonsense. Gene now rose to her feet and said, he did not look at the matter in the right way at all. As for the sun, it was all the time setting somewhere in the West and doing it every moment. Therefore everywhere was West and she trusted her husband would not be so foolish as to mention East again. He shook his head and was going to reply when she began to run around the table to show how the sun went, at the same time crying loudly, West, West, West. This made the town clerk very angry and he got up and ran around the table in the opposite direction yelling East, East, East to show how he thought the sun went. Yet it only ended by their getting extremely giddy and banging their heads together, a thing which hurt very much and did not improve their tempers or help the solving of the difficulty, you may be sure. Meanwhile Alexander Jones sat quiet in a corner and said nothing. The town clerk and his wife agreed in one thing, which was that the question was of too deep importance to be left unsettled. So they went to the grocer who had a good-sized house up the street and Alexander Jones went with them. They told the grocer about their dispute and the grocer and the grocer's wife and the grocer's maiden aunt and the grocer's wife's youngest married sister and the grocer's wife's youngest married sister's little girl were all much interested. But one took one view and another took another and they all ran around the table, some this way crying East and some the opposite way crying West to show how the sun moved in their opinion. It only ended in their getting extremely giddy and banging their heads together, a thing which hurt very much and did not improve their tempers or help to solve the difficulty. Meanwhile Alexander Jones sat quiet in a corner and said nothing. They all agreed in one thing, which was that the question was of too deep importance to be left unsettled. So the whole company, including Alexander Jones, went to the home of the mayor. It faced on the marketplace and was the largest house in the town. They told about the dispute with all the ins and outs of the matter and the mayor and the mayor's wife and the mayor's favorite uncle and the mayor's oldest nephew and the mayor's oldest nephew's little boy were all much interested to say the least. But one took one view and another took another view and they ran around the table, some this way shouting East and some the opposite way shouting West to show how, in their opinion, the sun really moved. It only ended in their all getting very giddy and banging their heads together, a thing which hurt and did not improve their tempers or help to solve the difficulty. Meanwhile Alexander Jones sat quiet in a corner and said nothing. They all agreed in one thing, which was that the question was of too deep importance to be left unsettled. So the mayor called a meeting of the whole populace in the town hall. The people assembled and Alexander Jones was there among the rest and the only persons not there were Peter the Watchman and his sister Jessica. Then the mayor told all about the dispute and everyone was naturally much interested. But one took one view and another took another view and they all wanted to run around a table to show how each thought the sun moved. Here, however, a difficulty arose. For alas, there was no table in the town hall to run around and what were they to do? They were not going to be balked by a trifle like that, not they. So they requested the mayor to stand in the middle and let them all run around him, each in the direction he or she pleased. But the mayor objected strongly. He said it would make him dizzy to see some folks going one way around him and some the other. I would certainly be sick, he declared. Therefore, I suggest that Alexander Jones be placed in the middle. Yes, why could we not run around him? Better make use of him. He is so stupid and says nothing. Besides, I want to run around with the rest of you myself and why should I be cut out? No, no, no, cried the people. Alexander Jones is too small and we should tread on him. He would not do at all. They insisted that the mayor must do as he had been asked. Hadn't they only the other day given him a gold badge to wear? And he must make them some return for it or they would take it away. So the poor man had to give in but he insisted on having his eyes bandaged and also on having a chair to sit in. Otherwise he knew he would be sick. Then they bandaged his eyes, seated him in a chair and began to run around him. Some this way crying east and some the opposite way crying west. But they only got very giddy and banged each other's heads, a thing which hurt and did not improve their tempers or help solve the difficulty. Worst of all, just at the end, when they could run no longer and were quite out of breath, Eliza McFadden, the fat widow who kept the candy shop, fell plump against the mayor and sent him and his chair tumbling to the floor. Meanwhile Alexander Jones sat quiet in a corner and said nothing. The mayor pulled the bandage off his eyes in a towering passion and declared that something must be settled there and then. He threatened if they did not agree he would put a tax on buttons, which was rather clever of him for everyone old and young, male and female wore buttons and would feel the tax. But he himself would be affected by it less than anyone else because he wore a robe that instead of being buttoned was fastened by a buckle at his neck and by a jeweled girdle around the waist. Now the town clerk addressed the people and said, we must avoid this button tax at all hazards. Let us devise some way to solve for all time the terrible riddle which gives us so much concern. I propose that we call in from the street Peter the Watchman for he is up and about at all hours late and early and would know more than most about the sun's movements. Yet if we ask him, we must also ask Peter's sister, Jessica. She does the mayor's wash-in and is a person of importance in the town. Peter would certainly decline to come into the hall unless she came with him. This was indeed most provoking for me because there was no room left in the town hall for another person and two would have to go out in order to admit Peter the Watchman and his sister, Jessica. I was the first to be put out for I was a stranger and only present in the hall out of courtesy. Next they turned out Alexander Jones because he was so stupid and said nothing. Thus it happened that I never knew what was the decision of the meeting. But perhaps you wonder why Alexander Jones was so dull as to sit still in a corner and say nothing. Yet how on earth could he do anything else? Alexander Jones was the town clerk's Tomcat. End of chapter four. Chapter five of the Fur Tree Fairy Book. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The Fur Tree Fairy Book by Clifton Johnson, The Sleeping Beauty. Once upon a time, long ago, so long indeed that even the very oldest people now alive cannot remember it. There dwelt a king and queen in a great white marble palace with splendid halls and high towers and a golden roof that flashed in the sunlight. All around the palace for miles and miles there were gardens and pleasure grounds with terraces and green lawns and flowers and ancient trees. Peacocks walked about on the lawns and deer loitered in the shady glades and gold and silver fish swam in the ponds and fountains. But in spite of all this beauty, the king and queen were not happy because they had no child. So when it last, a little daughter was born to them. They were very glad and there were great rejoicings all over the kingdom. Bonfires as big as haystacks were kept burning all night. That oxen were roasted whole in the marketplace of every town and the church bells were rung until the ringers were out of breath. A few weeks later, all was bustle and hurry in the palace to make ready for the christening feast. And the maids trimmed the halls and chambers with flowers and sprinkled the floors with sweet-scented leaves and petals. Among the guests invited to the christening were seven powerful fairies and the choicest foods were provided for them and golden dishes from which to eat. The feast was just going to begin when suddenly there was a clashing of brazen claws and a rushing of wings and something like a black cloud seemed to pass before the tall windows and darken the room. Then the great doors burst open with a terrible bang and an old fairy with her face almost hidden in a black hood jumped out of a chariot drawn by fierce griffins and came into the hall. The king turned pale and the queen nearly fainted for this was the spiteful fairy Tormentilla who lived alone an immense distance away from everywhere in a dismal black castle in the middle of a desert. The queen in her happiness had forgotten all about her and so neglected to send her an invitation. However, another chair was brought for Tormentilla and she was given a place of honor at the table and everyone tried to make up for the oversight but all in vain. Nothing pleased her. She would neither eat nor drink and sat scowling angrily about her until the feast was over. Then she and the seven other fairies went to the chamber where the tiny princess lay sleeping in her cradle and each stepped forward in turn to bestow a magic gift. The first said, she shall be good as gold. The second said, she shall be the cleverest princess in the world. The third said, she shall be the most beautiful princess in the world. The fourth said, she shall be the happiest princess in the world. The fifth said, she shall have the sweetest voice that ever was heard. The sixth said, she shall be loved by all who know her. Next, the old cross fairy took her place beside the cradle and shaking her cane at the king and queen shouted. And I say that before she reaches the age of 20 she shall prick her hand with a spindle and die of the wound. At this the queen fell on her knees and begged Tormentilla to recall her cruel words. But the wicked fairy, without replying, turned and left the hall. Then the eighth fairy went to the queen and said, do not cry, my dear lady. For though I cannot relieve the princess of this enchantment, I can make it less severe. She shall not die, but instead shall fall asleep for a hundred years. When those are passed, a prince shall come and awaken her with a kiss. So the king and queen were somewhat comforted and the fairies returned to their homes. The greatest care was taken of the little princess and in order to save her from her fate, a law was made that every spindle in the kingdom should be burned and no more made. Life moved along happily for the princess until she was 18 years old. All that the first six fairies promised had come true and she was the best and cleverest, the most beautiful and the happiest and the sweetest voice princess in all the world and everybody loved her. Indeed, by this time, Tormentilla's spiteful words were nearly forgotten, but one morning, the king and queen went away to be gone till late in the afternoon and the princess amused herself by wandering about into the out of the way nooks and corners and attics of the great building. She found dusty furniture that was often so quaint it made her laugh and there were many other curiosities. At last, she climbed a narrow winding stair in an old tower. It led to a little door with a rusty key sticking out of the lock. She turned the key, opened the door and there in a low chamber sat a white-capped old woman with a spinning wheel before her on which she was spinning flax. This poor old woman had been allowed many years previous to make her home in the tower and it happened that she had never heard the king's command to destroy the spindles. For she was so deaf that if you shouted until you were hoarse, she never would have been able to understand you. The princess stood on the threshold watching the old woman curiously. This was the first time she had ever seen a spinning wheel. What pretty work you are doing, she said presently. And why does that wheel go? Her, her, her. But of course, the old woman did not hear and she neither answered nor lifted her eyes from her work. So the princess stepped into the room and laid her hand on the old woman's shoulder. The spinner looked up and rubbed her eyes. Dearie, dearie me, cried she in a high cracked voice. And who may you be, my pretty darling? I'm the princess! Screamed the maiden in her ear. But the spinner only shook her head. She could hear nothing. Then the princess pointed to the spindle on which the flax was twirling into thread and made the old woman understand that she wanted to try if she could work it. The spinner nodded and laughed and got up from her seat and the princess sat down at the wheel. But she had hardly begun to spin when she pricked her finger with the spindle. Immediately a faintness seized her. She staggered to a bed close by and as soon as her head touched the pillow, she became unconscious. At the same moment, there was a deep silence everywhere in the castle. The little bird that just before had been singing so sweetly on the wind of sill hushed its song. The distant hum of voices from the courtyard beneath was stilled. Even the old woman who had been standing beside her wheel telling the princess how to spin, stopped short and fell asleep. In the great hall, the king and queen who had just returned and were inquiring for their daughter fell asleep before the lady in waiting could answer them. And the lady herself began to snore. The guards slumbered at their posts. The horses and their stalls became motionless and so did the dogs in the yard, the pigeons on the roof and the flies on the wall. The fire in the hearth stopped burning and the meat on the spit ceased roasting. In short, sleep fell on the whole castle and round about it, there sprung up a thick and thorny magic wood which it seemed impossible for anyone to penetrate and which hid the entire castle from view except a weather vane on the roof. Time went on until a hundred years had passed and then one day, a king's son happened to be hunting in the region. He became separated from his attendants in the excitement of the chase and at length he came to a woodcutter's cottage and dismounted to ask the way. The old man who lived in the hut gave him the required directions and then told the prince about a thick wood a little farther on in the direction he had been riding. No one has ever been able to get through that wood, said the old man. And my grandfather used to say it surrounded a castle in which was a beautiful princess condemned to sleep for a hundred years. He said some prince would come and awaken her with a kiss. On hearing this, nothing would do but the prince must go and have a look at the wood. He found it and dismounted and prepared to push his way through the thorny thicket. But no sooner did he start to penetrate the wood than the tangled briars of the undergrowth were changed into beautiful flowers which parted and bent aside to let him pass. When he reached the courtyard he saw the dogs lying asleep and on the roof the pigeons were sitting with their heads under their wings. He went indoors and there were the flies asleep on the wall and there was the cook with his hand uplifted to strike the kitchen boy and a maid sitting nearby had a fowl on her lap ready to pluck. When the prince entered the great hall he found the hall court asleep and the king and queen slumbering on their thrones. Everything was so still he could hear his own breathing. As yet, he saw no princess and he continued looking about till he came to the old tower and ascended the narrow winding stair. He went into the little room where the princess lay and she looked so lovely in her sleep that he could not turn away his eyes and presently he stooped and kissed her. At once she awoke and said Oh Prince, are you here at last? I have had such pleasant dreams. She sat up laughing and rubbing her eyes and after a few moments stood on her feet and they went hand in hand out of the room. The old woman stared at them in amazement and then mumbling to herself resumed her spinning. They descended the stairs and passed along the corridors until they came to the throne room. The king and queen and whole court had just waked up and were gazing at each other with wonderment. The long sleep was ended for the rest of the palace also. Roosters crowed, dogs barked, the cats began to mew, the clocks struck the hours, the heralds blew their trumpets, the pigeons flew away from the roof to the fields, the kitchen fire blazed up and the meat was again roasting. The cook gave the kitchen boy such a box on the ear that he roared lustily and the maid began to pluck the fowl. In short, everything went on as if there had been no enchantment at all. To be sure, the dress the princess was wearing was such as the prince's great grandmother might have worn but that gave them something to laugh at. As soon as preparations could be made the wedding of the prince and princess was celebrated with great splendor and they lived happily ever after. End of Chapter 5 Chapter 6 of the Fur Tree Fairy Book 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 Jacqueline Harp The Fur Tree Fairy Book by Clifton Johnson The Love of the Snow White Fox Once upon a time there lived a young fox that was snow-white and it was so gentle and intelligent that it was beloved by all the good people for miles around. If, in the evening, it knocks softly at their doors with its tail they were glad and were quick to let it in. When it entered it would play with the children, eat of their humble fare and then trot away but there were hunters in the country who wanted to kill the beautiful white fox. Once or twice it nearly lost its life at the hands of these cruel men. One summer afternoon as it was frisking about in the woods with some young fox friends two men caught sight of it they were fleet afoot and had dogs with them. Away ran the white fox and the men uttered an excited cry and gave chase. Instead of going deeper into the forest the fox ran across the open farmlands until it came to a holy temple. There, surely, I will find a safe refuge for my pursuers, it thought. In the temple there happened to be a young prince of noble family named Yashi, deep in meditation. The white fox, whose strength was nearly spent came running in at the door and went directly to the prince and took refuge behind him. The poor creature trembled with fright and Yashi took pity on it and did all he could to calm its fears. I will protect you, little one, said he. No one shall harm you. The fox looked up at him and seemed to understand his words. It ceased to tremble. The prince went to the door of the great temple two men hastened up to him and asked if he had seen a snow-white fox. It must have run into the temple, they declared. But Yashi, faithful to his promise, said, I have been in the temple praying, but I can tell you nothing of the fox. The men were about to go on when they caught a glimpse of the fox behind him. Fiercely, they demanded that he should stand aside. The prince firmly refused. Then the men, intent on having their prey, attacked him, and he was obliged to draw his sword in self-defense. At this moment, Yashi's father, a brave old man, came up. He rushed on the assailants of his son, but a deadly blow, which Yashi could not avert, struck the old man down. This made Yashi very wroth, and with two mighty strokes he felled his adversaries to the ground. The loss of his father filled Yashi with grief, and as he stood, looking down on the body, his heart was very heavy. Just then, a sweet song from within the sacred building greeted his ears. Who could the singer be? For there was no one inside when he came out. He re-entered the temple, until Maiden appeared before him. He saw from her look and manner that she knew he was in deep trouble, and he told her of the snow-white fox and the cruel hunters and of the death of his father. Then the Maiden spoke to Yashi tender words of sympathy, and her voice was so kindly and gentle that even the sound of it brought comfort to him. Presently he asked her who she was, and she replied that she was a homeless stranger. So he insisted that she should dwell with him. As the days passed, she constantly became more attractive to him, until he loved her more than anyone else in the world and asked her to be his bride. I already love you, she replied. I know that you are good and brave, and I would solace you for the loss of your father. So they were married and lived happily together. Time passed swiftly, and Yashi ruled his people wisely. At length a son was born to the prince and princess, and they were more happy than ever. But one day Yashi noticed that the princess was sorely troubled. For hours she sat alone, and the tears sprang to her eyes when Yashi asked her the cause of her sorrow. She took his hand and said, My life with you has been very delightful, but now that I have given you a son to be with you always, I must leave you. I am the snow-white fox whose life you saved. Once again she looked into his eyes, and then without another word was gone. Yashi and his son lived long and were greatly beloved, but the snow-white fox was seen no more. In a certain valley, long ago, they dwelt a glacier who had a wife named Barbara. The glacier was famous for its valour in encountering wolves, and there was not in all the valley a man who was a smudge in handling the quarter-star. Moreover, the snow-white fox was seen in the snow-white fox's eyes and the snow-white fox was seen in the snow-white fox's eyes and the snow-white fox was seen in the snow-white fox's eyes and the snow-white fox was seen in the snow-white fox's eyes and the snow-white fox was seen in the snow-white fox's eyes and the snow-white fox was seen in the snow-white fox's eyes and the snow-white fox was seen in the snow-white fox's eyes and the snow-white fox was seen in the snow-white fox's eyes and the snow-white fox was seen in the snow-white fox's eyes of the past, but she was a woman who made herself respected. She never failed to produce a startling effect on her husband when she visited him as he was standing his herds on the mountain sides, for no other woman ever had such a tongue. He often prayed to the saints for relief, but she continued to both play him with her tongue and mark him with her nails. At last, he applied for advice to an old wizard who lived in a neighboring valley. He had begun telling of his troubles when the wizard interrupted him and said, I see plainly that you are complaining bitterly, but I would have you know that I am deaf and no matter how violently you shout and jump and gesture, what you say or do will have no effect on me. Nevertheless, let me tell you that if you have some bright yellow gold to bestow on me, you will be heard and understood. Yes, I would hear and comprehend, even if you were dumb and had no voice, whatever. I will listen to the market, said the gracious, and sell some of my finest piece and the money that I receive for them I will gladly give to you. So away he went and sold some of his piece and returned to the wizard and counted out the gold pieces one by one. Then the wizard listened patiently to his story and sent him home with a promise of speedy relief. That very night, after the grace year and his wife were in bed and the latter was delivering a lengthy lecture on his lack of breathing in snoring, when a lady was speaking, a white figure appeared at the bedside with a mirror in its hand. Barbara said the specter, your virtues are known to me and as a reward you shall be restored to youth and beauty, which you shall yourself behold when you look into this mirror, but beware, lest angry or vain words pass your lips, for such a lapse will be punished by hideous old age and infirmity. So saying, the apparition vanished, Barbara lit a lamp and occupied herself in admiring her deflection in the magic mirror, thus the gracious was enabled to enjoy an unbroken sleep till morning, a thing he had not done for years. He had peace also on the morrow and ever after, for Barbara never allowed the mirror to pass out of her possession and it was a constant solace to her even to the day of her death. CHAPTER VIII. Since upon a time there was a poor farmer who had three sons and the sons' names were Peter, Paul and Philip. None of the three liked work very well and instead of helping their father they spent most of their time sauntering about. At last Peter heard that the king wanted a keeper to watch his rabbits, so the youth told his father that he would go to the king's palace and apply for the position. I doubt if you are fitted for just that sort of work, said his father. He who keeps the king's rabbits needs to be light and quick and no lazy bones. You could not loiter when the rabbits began to skip and frisk, for if you doddled as you do at home you would be discharged. But the father's advice had no effect. Peter was determined to go, and after filling a bag with something to eat and drink and a few other necessaries he took the bag on his back and started. He had not travelled many miles when he heard a voice calling for help. On going in the direction of the sound he found an old woman in a pit from which she was unable to climb out. Don't stand there staring, she said sharply. Reach me your hand and pull me up. I have been in this pit a whole year, and in all that time I have not had a morsel of food. What, exclaimed Peter, a whole year, do you say? Then you must be a witch, or you could not fast so long, and I will have nothing to do with you. So off he marched. At length he arrived at the king's palace and was engaged as the keeper of the rabbits. He was promised plenty of food and good pay, and maybe the princess into the bargain, for the king had decided that any keeper who took such good care of the rabbits that not one of them escaped should have the princess for his wife. The next day Peter led the rabbits out to browse. As long as they were near the stables and in the adjacent open fields he kept them in one flock. But towards evening they got into a wood and began to scuttle about among the trees. Peter ran after them this way and that until he had no breath left for any more running. He could not get the rabbits together. They all disappeared and he saw nothing more of them. After resting a while he started to go back to the palace. As he went along he kept a sharp look out and he stopped to call his fugitive charges at every fence. But no rabbits came, and when he reached the palace there stood the king waiting for him. It was plain that Peter had failed, and for punishment he was banished from the country. The king presently got a new lot of rabbits, and then he let it be known that he wanted a keeper. Peter's brother Paul heard of this and nothing would do, but he must try for the place. Away he went and by and by he found the old woman in a pit just as Peter had, and he would not help her out. When he got to the palace he was promptly engaged as keeper of the rabbits, and the next day he let them out to feed. All went well until late in the afternoon. They went from the fields into the woods. Then they skipped and hopped away, and though he rushed about and raced after them till he was ready to drop, they all escaped. So he returned to the palace without a rabbit, and the king ordered that he should leave the country. More rabbits were obtained to replace those lost, and again word went forth that his majesty wanted a keeper for them. Philip, the youngest of the three brothers, heard of this and concluded to apply for the job. It will be just the right work for me, he said to his father. I would like nothing better than to spend my days in the fields and woodlands watching the rabbit flock, and I would be sure to have plenty of time to nap on the sunny hillsides. I fear, said the old farmer, that you will fare no better than your two brothers. The person who keeps the king's rabbits must not be like a fellow with leaden soles to his shoes, or like a fly in a tar-put. Well, responded Philip, however things may turn out I shall get the job if I can. Surely it will be no harder than to take care of the calf and goat here at home. So he packed his bag, lifted it to his shoulder, and started for the palace of the king. He trudged along until he heard a voice calling, and when he looked about he saw the old woman in the pit. Good day, grandmother, he said. What can I do for you? Help me out of this hole, she said, and give me something to eat. I will do you a good turn afterward. You may depend on it. She was willing enough, and he pulled her out of the pit. Then he opened his bag, and sat down to eat and drink with her. She had a keen appetite after her long fast, and naturally got the lion's share, but that didn't trouble Philip any. As soon as they finished, she gave him a magic horn, and said, If you blow into the small end of it, whatever you wish away will be scattered to the four winds, and if you blow into the large end the things you wish near will at once come about you. Should the horn ever be lost or taken from you, all you have to do is to wish for it, and it will return to you. Very good, responded Philip, such a horn is worth having. So saying he resumed his walk, and at length he came to the king's palace. He was hired to keep the rabbits, and he was much pleased, for he was certain of good food and generous wages, and if he were clever enough not to lose any of the rabbits, he might win the princess too. The next morning he began work, and at first he found the task an easy one. As long as the rabbits were in the lanes and fields, they behaved very well. But while he was eating his new lunch, they wandered to the woodlands, where they frisked about and scampered away into the underbrush. Ho-ho, cried Philip, you want to leave me, do you? Well off with you then, and he blew into the small end of the magic horn. Immediately they were all gone from view, and Philip found a mossy spot to his liking, and lay down to sleep till evening tide. The sun was low in the west when he woke, and he took up his horn and blew into the large end of it. At once the rabbits came frolicking about him, and he led them like a flock of sheep to the king's palace. The king, the queen, and the princess too, all came out on the porch, and wondered how he contrived to manage the rabbits so well. Several times the king counted them to make sure they were all there, and he had to acknowledge that not one was missing. That rabbit-keeper would be a fine lad, said the princess, if only he was of noble birth. The next day he took the rabbits out again, and when they roamed to the woodland he lay down in the shade at the edge of the wood close to the sunny slope, where the wild strawberries grew and scented the air with their sweet odor. The king was curious to learn how the youth contrived to control the rabbits so admirably, and he sent a servant to watch him. By and by the servants came peeping about among the trees, and spied Philip asleep in the pleasant shade of the woodland. He hid in a thicket and waited. Toward evening he saw Philip rise to his feet and blow his horn, and immediately all the rabbits came scampering about him. The servant hastened home and told the king what he had observed, and the king told his wife and daughter. Unless we put a stop to his using that horn, said the princess, I shall have to marry him, and he is only a common farmer's son. Tomorrow I shall go to the wood, and while he is asleep I will take his horn and bring it home to the palace. She went to the wood just as she had planned, and she had little trouble in getting possession of the horn. When Philip awoke it was gone. And how was he to bring the rabbits together? But he remembered that the old woman had said he could get it back by wishing. So he wished for it, and the princess who had nearly reached the palace felt it suddenly slipped through her fingers, and though she searched all about she could not find it. The horn had returned to the hands of Philip in the woodland, and he immediately blew it to fetch the rabbits together, and then he went with them to the palace. The royal family saw that Philip had the horn, and the queen said she would go the next day and take it, and they might be sure she would bring it home. The moral came, and in the early afternoon off she tramped to the wood. She secured the horn and hurried away with it, holding it very tight, but as she approached the palace it slipped from her grasp, and by and by the rabbit keeper returned with his horn and flock as usual. I shall have a look into this matter myself, grumbled the king, if we are going to get that wretched horn into our positions. You women plan all right, but it usually takes a man to carry a plan to a successful conclusion. The following day, while Philip was having his nap in the wood, the king came to the spot where the youth lay and took the horn. To make doubly sure of it, the king put the horn in a bag he had brought along for the purpose. Back he went to the palace. His wife and daughter met him at the door, and he triumphantly opened the bag to show them the horn. But it was not there. He had not succeeded any better than the women folk. Plague, take the fellow, he exclaimed. There is some magic about the way that horn disappears. The lad gets the best of us every time, and I suppose he might as well marry into the family first as last. Pretty soon Philip arrived with his flock of rabbits and put them in their night quarters. Then he heard the king calling to him, and went to the palace porch where he found all the royal family waiting for him. What sort of horn is that of yours? Asked the king. It looks ordinary enough, but I am sure it has some strange power, or you would not be able to take such excellent care of the rabbits and never lose a single one of them. It was given to me by an old woman, said Philip, and if I blow in one end it does one thing, and if I blow into the other end it does the opposite. Oh, bother your explanations, cried the king. Show us its power, and then we shall understand. But perhaps the showing would not please your majesty, said Philip. Stuffed nonsense, the king exclaimed. I said, show us. Who is king here, you or me? It is my business to command, and it is yours to obey. Very well, responded Philip. And I wish you to scatter. And he blew a good strong blast into the little end of his horn. At once the king, very much against his will, and kicking savagely, was hurried off north. The queen flew east, and the princess west, and a little kitchen maid who had come up behind Philip, and was looking on, was hustled off south in such sudden haste, it seemed to her she would be scared out of a year's growth. Stop me, you rascal, bring me back, yelled the king as he vanished in the distance. Philip turned the horn about and blew into the big end. In a few moments the king and the others were back on the porch, and the little maid, vastly astonished by her experience, lost no time in escaping to the kitchen. What do you mean by treating me in that fashion? The king demanded. You shall hang for it. Philip raised the little end of the horn to his lips, and the king, fearful that he would have to repeat his wild race, called out, enough, enough! The fault was mine. You shall have my daughter, and half the kingdom, if you only won't blow the horrible horn in my presence. I'm too old and stiff to be dashing about over the country as I did just now. So as soon as things could be made ready for a grand wedding, Philip married the princess, and they lived happily the rest of their days. CHAPTER VIII RECORDED BY RECEL OLEA CHAPTER IX OF THE FURTH TREE FAIRY BOOK 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 Vijaytash Sharma. THE FURTH TREE FAIRY BOOK by Clifton Johnson. THE ENVIOUS NEIGHBOR There was a poor man in a tropical country who for many long years dwelt in a city where he suffered great privations and often went hungry. At last he left the city and built a hut far out in the country on the edge of the wilderness and dug up a piece of ground for a garden. He depended on this garden to furnish him a living, and he planted some corn and melon seeds which soon sent cream sprouts up to the light. He took the best of care of the growing melons and corn and they threw luxuriously. When the crops began to mature, the monkeys from the neighboring wilderness observed the good things that were ripening in the garden and they came daily to eat of them. The man, thinking of his own past privations and sufferings, willingly shared the product of his labour with them and they wondered greatly what manner of person he was that permitted them to eat unmolested of his corn and melons. One day the man leaned down in the garden and fell asleep. By and by he became aware of the arrival of a troop of monkeys, but he continued to lie there as if still sound asleep. They saw him and drew near and cried out with one accord. He is dead. Our good friend is dead. Low these many days we have eaten of the things growing in his garden. Therefore it is only just that we should bury him in as choice a place as we can find. The man heard what they said, but he did not open his eyes or stir for he was curious to find out what they would do. They lifted him and carried him till they came to a place where two bees met. Then one of the monkeys said, let us take him to the cave of silver. Another said, no, the cave of gold would be better. Go to the cave of gold, commanded the head monkey. There they carried him and left him. When he found himself alone, he arose, gathered all the gold he could carry and returned to his home. This gold, thus easily gained, enabled him to build a beautiful home and to live in great comfort. How did you, who came here so poor, gain this wealth? Asked the neighbor and the man freely told all that had befallen him. What you have done, I can do too, said the neighbor. And he he sent home, planted a piece of crown with corn and melons and waited for the monkeys to feast there. Everything came to pass as he had hoped. When the corn and melons ripened, great numbers of monkeys visited the garden and feasted. One day they found the owner lying in the garden, apparently dead. Their gratitude prompted them to give a worthy burial and they carried him to the place where the two roads met. Here they disputed as to whether they should place the man in the cave of silver or the cave of gold. Meanwhile, the man was thinking, as soon as I'm alone in the cave, I will begin gathering up the gold and I will make a basket of bamboo so I can carry home a much larger amount than my neighbor brought away. Presently, the head monkey said, put him in the cave of silver. That was such a disappointment to the man that he forgot he was supposed to be dead. And he exclaimed, no, put me in the cave of gold. At once, the monkeys dropped him and fled in great fright. And the man, bruised and disappointed, crept sorrowfully home. End of chapter nine, recording by Vijay Das Sharma. Chapter 10 of the Fur Tree Fairy Book. 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 Matt Bounds. The Fur Tree Fairy Book by Clifton Johnson. Bluebeard. Once upon a time, there was a man who lived in a splendid house and had dishes of gold and silver, chairs and sofas covered with floured satin and curtains of the richest silk. But alas, this man was so unlucky as to have a blue beard, which made him look so frightfully ugly that all the women and girls ran away from him. His nearest neighbor was a lady of quality who had two beautiful daughters and he wished to marry one of them. He was even willing to let the lady decide which of the two it should be. Neither of the daughters, however, would have him and the lady sighed to think of her children's obstinacy and refusing to become the mistress of such a magnificent mansion. But they were not able to make up their minds to marry a man with a blue beard. Their aversion was increased by the fact that he had already had several wives and no one knew surely what had become of them, though he made all sorts of excuses to account for their disappearance. At length, blue beard, in order to cure the dislike of the lady's daughters, invited them and their mother and some young friends to spend a whole week at his house. They came and nothing was thought of but parties for hunting and fishing, feasting, dancing and music. The guests were loaded with gifts of the most costly description and were so delightfully entertained that before many days had passed, Fatima, the youngest sister, began to imagine that the beard she had thought to be so ugly was not so very blue after all. By the end of the week, the kindness and politeness of her host had made such an impression that she concluded it would be a pity to refuse to become his wife on account of the trifling circumstance of his having a blue beard. So they were married shortly afterward and at first everything went well. A month passed away and one morning Bluebeard told Fatima that he must go on a journey which would take him six weeks at least. He kissed her affectionately, gave her the keys of the whole mansion and bade her amuse herself in any way she pleased while he was gone. But, said he, I would have you notice among the keys the small one of polished steel. It unlocks a little room at the end of the long corridor. Go where you will and do what you choose, but remember, I have forbidden you to enter that one room. Fatima promised faithfully to obey his orders and she watched him get into his carriage and stood at the door of the mansion waving her hand to him as he drove away. Lest she should be lonesome during her husband's absence, she invited numerous guests to keep her company. Most of them had not dared to venture into the house while Bluebeard was there and they came without any urging or delay eager to see its splendors. They ran about upstairs and downstairs peeping into the closets and wardrobes admiring the rooms and exclaiming over the beauties of the tapestries, sofas, cabinets and tables and of the mirrors in which they could see themselves from head to foot. With one consent they praised what they saw and envied the fortune of their friend the mistress of all this magnificence. She went about unlocking the doors for their convenience until the only door that remained untouched was that of the obscure room at the end of the long corridor. She wondered why she had been forbidden to enter that room. What was there in it? Even if she did go in her husband need never know she had done so. The more she thought about it the more curious she became. At last she left her guests and hurried along the dark narrow corridor that led to the forbidden room. At the door she hesitated, recalling her husband's command and fearful of his anger. But the temptation was too strong and she tremblingly opened the door. At first she could see nothing because the window shutters were closed but after a few moments she began to discern that on the floor the bodies of all the wives Bluebeard had married. She uttered a cry of horror, her strength left her and she thought she would die from fear. The key of the room fell from her hand but she picked it up, hastily retreated to the corridor and locked the door. However, she could not forget what she had seen and when she returned to her guests her mind was too disturbed for her to attend to their comfort or to attempt to entertain them. One by one they bade their hostess goodbye and went home until no one was left with her except her sister Anne. Then Fatima noticed a spot of blood on the key of the fatal room. She tried to wipe it off but the spot remained. Then she washed the key with soap and scoured it with sand but her efforts were in vain for it was a magic key and only Bluebeard himself had the power to remove the stain. She decided not to put it with the other keys but to hide it hoping her husband would not miss it. Bluebeard returned unexpectedly that very evening he said a horseman had met him on the road and told him that the business which had taken him from home had been satisfactorily settled so there was no need if he's making the long journey. Fatima tried to welcome her husband with every appearance of pleasure but all the time she was dreading the moment when he should ask for the keys. This he did not do until the following morning and then she gave them to him with such a blanched face and shaking hand that he easily guessed what had happened. How is it that you have not brought me the key of the little room? He asked sternly. I must have left it on my table upstairs. She faltered. Bring it to me at once, said Bluebeard and she was forced to go and make a pretense of searching for it. When she dared delay no longer she went to her husband and surrendered the key and he immediately demanded the calls of the stain on it. She hesitated at a loss what reply to make but he shouted, But why need I, do you ask? I know the meaning of it right well. You have disobeyed my commands and have been into the room I ordered you not to enter. So you shall go in again, madam but you will never return. You shall take your place among the ladies you saw there. Fatima fell on her knees at his feet weeping and begging for mercy but the cruel man had a heart like a stone and he bade her prepare for death. I must die, said she at least grant me a little time to say my prayers. I give you 10 minutes, said Bluebeard and not one moment more. Poor Fatima hastened to a little turret chamber with her sister had fled in terror and grief. Sister Anne, she said, go up to the top of the tower and see if our brothers are coming. They promised to visit me today and if they should be in sight beckon them to come quickly. So the sister climbed the narrow staircase that led to the top of the tower and no sooner was she there than Fatima called from below. Anne, sister Anne, do you see anyone coming? Anne replied sadly, I see nothing but the sun shining and the grass growing tall and green. Several times Fatima asked the same question and received the same answer. Meanwhile, Bluebeard was waiting with a mighty scimitar in one hand and his watch in the other. At length he shouted in a great voice. Come down or I shall go up and fetch you. Anne, sister Anne, Fatima called softly. Look again, is there no one on the road? I see a cloud of dust rising in the distance. Anne answered, perchance it is our brothers, said Fatima. Alas, no, my dear sister, responded Anne. It is only a flock of sheep. Fatima, roared Bluebeard, I command you to come down. One moment, just one moment more, sobbed the wretched wife. Then she called. Anne, sister Anne, do you see anyone coming? I see two horsemen riding in this direction, said Anne, but they are a great way off. Heaven be praised, exclaimed Fatima. They must be our brothers. Oh, sign them to hasten. By this time, the enraged Bluebeard was howling so loud for his wife to come down that his voice shook the whole castle. Fatima dared delay no longer and she descended to the great hall, threw herself at her wicked husband's feet and once more begged him to spare her life. Silence, cried Bluebeard, your entreaties are wasted. You shall die. He seized her hair and raised his cemetery to strike. At that moment, a loud knocking was heard at the gates. Bluebeard paused with a look of alarm and then the door of the hall was flung open and Fatima's two brothers appeared with swords ready, drawn in their hands. They rushed at Bluebeard and one rescued his sister from her husband's grasp and the other gave the wretched sword thrush that put an end to his life. So the wicked Bluebeard perished miserably and Fatima became mistress of all his riches. Part of her wealth she bestowed on her sister Anne and part on her two brothers. The rest she retained herself and presently she married a man whose kind treatment helped her to forget her unfortunate experience with Bluebeard. End of Chapter 10 Are in the public domain. For more information, or to volunteer, please visit librivolx.org. Recording by Lex Hankins, find me on Twitter at lexhankins. The Fur Tree Fairy Book by Clipton Johnson, the spendthrift merchant's son. There was once a merchant's son who, when his father died, squandered all his inheritance. At last he had nothing to eat So he took a spade, went to the marketplace, and stood waiting to see if anyone would hire him for a laborer. By and by a rich noble drove into the marketplace in his golden coach. As soon as the men who were waiting there for work saw him, all except the merchant's son scattered in every direction and hid. The gilded coach came to a stop before him, and the noble said, Do you want work, young man? It is for no other purpose than to get work that I stand here, replied the merchant's son. Then I will hire you, said the noble. What wages do you require? One hundred silver pieces a day was the answer. That is a high price, said the noble. If you think it too much, said the merchant's son, go and find a cheaper article, but I observe that you are not very popular as an employer. Crowds of laborers seeking work were here a few minutes ago, but you came in a way they all bolted. Well, said the noble, I agree to pay your price. Meet me at the harbour tomorrow. Early the next day, the youth resorted to the harbour, where he found the noble awaiting him. They went on board a ship, which soon put out to sea, and sailed and sailed until it approached an island. On this island were high mountains, and by the shore was a splendid castle. The ship cast anchor, and the noble and the merchant's son were rowed to the castle, where they were met by the noble's wife and daughter. After the greetings were over, they sat down at table, and began to eat, drink, and be merry. Today we'll feast, said the noble, and tomorrow we'll work. The noble's daughter was beautiful beyond anything that pen can tell, and the merchant's son fell in love with her. Nor could she help liking him, for he was lively, sturdy, and handsome. At length she found an opportunity to call him secretly into an adjacent room, and gave him a flint and steel. Use these if you should be in great danger, said she, and they will bring you help. Next day the noble mounted a handsome seed, and had his laborer mount an old racobones, and they set off for the mountains. They went up and up till they rose before them, a smooth wall of rock, near the summit of the loftiest peak, and they could go no farther. I am thirsty after all this climbing, said the noble. We will dismount and have something to drink. He handed the merchant's son a flask that contained a sleeping potion, and the youth drank without any suspicion that he was being drugged. It made him very drowsy, and he sat by a tree and was soon fast asleep. Then the noble killed the wretched nag on which the youth had ridden, removed its entrails, put the young man and his spade inside of the body, and sewed it up. That done he went and hid in the bushes. In a little while there flew down a host of black iron-beaked crows. They took up the carcass and carried it to the mountaintop, where they began to peck and eat at it. Presently they had eaten their way in to where lay the merchant's son. Then he awoke, beat off the crows, looked hither and thither, and said, Where am I? The noble at the foot of the precipice heard him and shouted, You are on the golden mountain. Take your spade and dig gold and throw it down to me. Then the youth saw that the whole mountaintop was composed of gold, and he dug and dug and threw the gold down to the noble who loaded onto his horse. When the noble had all the horse could carry he bawled out. That'll do. Thanks for your labor. Goodbye. But what is to become of me? The merchant's son shouted back. You will have to get along as best you can, replied the noble. Ninety-nine of your sort have already perished on this mountaintop. You will just make a hundred. Thus spoke the noble and departed. What is to be done now? thought the merchant's son. To get down the sleep-slippery sides of this mountain summit is impossible. I shall starve to death. There he stood on the bleak height, and above him circled the Iron Beach Crows, which evidently regarded him as their prey. He recalled the events that led to his being in his present plight, and it occurred to him how the lovely damsel had given him the flint and steel he had in his pocket. She told me to use them if ever I was in great danger, said he. I will try them now. He took them out and struck a spark from the flint with a steel. Immediately there appeared before him two stout young men. What do you want? they asked. I will first fill my pockets with gold, said he, and then I would like to go from this mountain to the seashore. As soon as he was ready, they lifted him and carried him away through the air to the seashore. Then they vanished. While he was walking about there, he saw a ship not far distant sailing by the island. Oh, good shipfolk! he shouted. Take me with you. No, brother. They responded. To stop would cause us to lose too much time. The mariners went on, but soon contrary winds began to blow, and they were presently beset by a hurricane. A loss, said they. The person who hailed us from that island was no ordinary man. He has brought this storm on us for a punishment, and we shall perish unless we return and take him on the ship. So they went back and got him, and conveyed him to his native town. The gold he had brought from the mountains supported him for a time, but when it was gone, he again took a spade and went to the marketplace to wait for someone to hire him. By and by, the same noble who had hired him before came to the marketplace in his gilded coach. The men waiting for employment all scattered in every direction and hid, except the merchant's son. The noble spoke to him and said, Will you come and work for me? Wellingly, replied the youth, If you will pay me two hundred pieces of silver a day. Isn't that rather dear, huh? said the noble. If you find it dear, said the merchant's son, Go and hire some other man. But you saw how many people were waiting here for work when you came, and in what haste they all got out of the way. Very well, said the noble. Meet me tomorrow morning at the harbour. Early next day they met at the harbour, went on board a ship, and sailed to the island. There they ate and drank and took their ease for one day, and on the following morning mounted horses and rode up into the mountains. They arrived at the steep wall of rock near the summit of the highest peak, and the noble said, No, let us have a drink. But first, said the youth, You who are chief must drink. Let me treat you with what I have brought in my own flask. So the noble drank. But the merchant's son had betimes filled his flask with a sleeping potion that put his master into a sound sleep. Then he killed the lame old horse he rode, removed the entrails, thrust the noble and the spade into the body, and sewed him up in there. Afterward he hid in the bushes. Soon the black iron beak crows flew down, took up the carcass of the horse, carried it to the top of the cliff, and began pecking at it. When they had made an opening to where the noble lay, he awoke, crawled out, and looked around. Where am I? said he. You are on the golden mountain, bold merchant's son. Take your spade and dig gold and throw it down to me. The noble dug and dug and threw down the gold, and the youth packed it onto the noble's horse until he had all the creature could carry. That's enough, he called. Thanks for your labor, Hadoo. But how am I to get off this mountain? cried the noble. Why, get off as best you can, answered the youth. Ninety-nine of your sort of parish on that golden summit. You can be the hundredth. The merchant's son returned to the splendid castle beside the sea, married the lovely damsel, took possession of the noble's riches, and then went in a ship to his native city. There he dwelled in peace and plenty the rest of his life. End of Chapter 11, Recording by Lex Hankins