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Uncle Joe's Stories

by Baron Edward Hugessen Knatchbull-Hugessen Brabourne · English · Gutenberg #44924 · 602,113 chars · public domain (US)

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Title: Uncle Joe's Stories

Author: Baron Edward Hugessen Knatchbull-Hugessen Brabourne

Illustrator: Ernest Henry Griset


        
Release date: February 15, 2014 [eBook #44924]
                Most recently updated: October 24, 2024

Language: English

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[Illustration: _Front._        ZAC WINS THE PIG-RACE.--P. 57]


UNCLE JOE'S STORIES

by

THE RIGHT HON. E. H. KNATCHBULL-HUGESSEN, M.P.

With Illustrations by Ernest Griset


London
George Routledge and Sons
Broadway, Ludgate Hill
New York: 416 Broome Street
1879




CONTENTS.


                                                                 PAGE

UNCLE JOE                                                           1

ZAC'S BRIDE                                                        40

EVELYN WITH THE FAIRIES                                           106

CAT AND DOG                                                       183

OPHELIA                                                           223

THE CRONES OF MERSHAM                                             285




TO ALL NAUGHTY CHILDREN

(IF THERE BE ANY SUCH LEFT IN ENGLAND)

This Book

IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED.


MY DEAR CHILDREN--

Yes--you are "dear," and will be very "dear" to your parents and
friends if you continue to be naughty. I dedicate this little book to
you because I have been told (though it is scarcely possible to believe
it) that I was once a naughty child myself. If it be true, it was a
_very_ long time ago; and then there were not nearly so many pretty
"children's books" as there are now, so I had not the same chance as
you have of knowing how much best it is to be good. As soon as I found
this out, I began to be good directly, and now I advise you all to do
the same.

Whilst you are thinking how to manage it, you cannot do better than
read a few stories about Fairies, Pigmies, Witches, and such-like
interesting creatures. In these stories you will find that the good
people always come out right at last, and the naughty people get into
the most disagreeable scrapes. Well, this is just the same with
creatures who are not Fairies nor Pigmies, nor anything of the sort. So
as soon as you have read these stories--or even before doing so if you
can--leave off being naughty and be good as fast as possible. By so
doing you will make everybody about you happy, will become more and
more happy yourselves, and will show that Fairy stories are really of
some use. In this case we must have another book next year, and
meanwhile I remain your affectionate friend,

E. H. KNATCHBULL-HUGESSEN.




LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.


                                                                 PAGE

ZACK WINS THE PIG-RACE (_Zac's Bride_)                             57

EVELYN MEETS THE FAIRIES (_Evelyn with the Fairies_)              122

THE CAT'S LAST MUSIC-LESSON (_Cat and Dog_)                       212

END OF FAMCRAM (_Ophelia_)                                        280

MARY AND BILLY MEET THE CRONES (_The Crones of Mersham_)          305

SIMPLE STEENIE AND THE GRAY MAN ON THE STROLL (_The Crones
    of Mersham_)                                                  344




PREFACE.


I had almost made up my mind to write no more Fairy Tales, to let
sprites and elves alone for ever, and to refrain from any further
research into the dark and mysterious doings of warlocks and witches
in the olden time. But fate is stronger than the will of man, and I
am powerless to resist the influences brought to induce--nay, to
compel--me to alter my determination. It is not only that verbal and
written requests have come to me from many quarters which it is
difficult to resist; it is not only that I am tired of being asked when
my new book is coming out, and of being generally disbelieved when I
answer "never." There is a stronger influence still. Fairies and elves
have an extraordinary power which they exercise over those who have
once sought to pry into their mysteries. If once you have dealings with
such creatures, you can rarely, if ever, leave them. There is a
fatality which urges you on--an irresistible fascination in the subject
which brings you back to it again and again, and obliges you to recur
to it in spite of yourself. When I walk out in the woods, or ramble
through the fields alone, the objects which appear ordinary and
commonplace to people who have, unhappily for themselves, neglected to
study Fairy Lore, bear to me quite a different appearance. I see traces
of the little beings which are not visible to the careless, still less
to the unbelieving eye. I hear voices which are inaudible to the ear
of the incredulous; and even without this, Fancy--free, glorious
Fancy--clothes the grass, the flowers, the bushes, the trees, with a
beauty of her own, and peoples every fairy haunt with a spirit company.
Is it only Fancy? Ah! that is just what nobody knows. Only how could I
tell so many different stories if nobody told them to me first?

That is a question I should like people to put to themselves calmly and
quietly, and if they think, after full consideration, that some person
or persons must have told me these curious stories, I hope they will
come to the conclusion that I am only doing what is right and fair in
passing them on to other people, so that the world may know as much as
I do about the strange and wonderful beings to whom these stories
relate.




UNCLE JOE'S STORIES.




UNCLE JOE.


I do not think that I ever met so extraordinary a man as Uncle Joe in
all my life. We children were all very fond of him, because he had an
inexhaustible supply of stories, and those, too, of a kind which are
especially popular with children. He had exciting stories of almost
every sort: of thrilling adventures by land and sea, of captures by
pirates, hair-breadth escapes from Red Indians; fearful conflicts with
robbers; terrible struggles with wild animals; and strange encounters
with sea-serpents or similarly wonderful creatures. Then he knew an
immense deal about giants and dwarfs, witches and wizards, ogres and
vampires, and he also possessed no little insight into all that
concerned fairies and fairy-land. He could tell of the little sea fairy
that rode on the crest of the wave, basking pleasantly when the sun
shone down on a calm still ocean, and shrieking madly with frenzied
delight when the winds lashed the waves into fury, and carried her
forward on the great flakes of snow-like foam; of the fairy who looked
after some particular house or family, and always appeared to warn them
of danger just at the right moment, or to disclose a buried treasure,
exactly in time to save them from ruin; and of the happy little
woodland fairies, who are to be found in the deep glades and dark
ravines of the wild forest, and about whom such innumerable legends
have from time to time been written by some of those fortunate mortals
who have visited and been aided by them in time of sickness or danger,
and who have in gratitude chronicled their power.

Nothing delighted Uncle Joe so much as to tell one of his charming
stories to us, eager listeners as we always were. He liked to get one
child on each knee, and to have the others clustering round as near as
possible, and then he would start off and go on just for all the world
as if he was only reading from a book.

Looking back now, with the calmer judgment of riper years, I hardly
know which was most wonderful, the unlimited power of invention of
Uncle Joe, or the boundless credulity of us children. Because no man
could by any possibility have gone through half the wonderful
adventures of which he pretended to have been the hero, if he had lived
to twice the ordinary age of man, and kept on searching for adventures
all the time. Besides, it would have been five hundred to one against
his escaping every time, as Uncle Joe always did, "by the skin o' his
teeth."

Once he was tied to the stake, and just going to be scalped by the
Indians, when some miraculous thing (I forget what at this moment)
occurred to save him; once he was in the very coils of an enormous
snake, and was yet preserved; and at another time, he was actually
swallowed by a crocodile, (I am sure I don't know how he got down its
throat without a disabling nip from some of those teeth which I have
noticed in the mouths of stuffed crocodiles in museums,) and escaped by
means of employing his penknife in a manner too disagreeable to
describe. In short, there never was a man who, according to his own
account, had gone through such a series of remarkable adventures as
Uncle Joe, and I am therefore quite justified in pronouncing him to
have been a most extraordinary man.

I have never discovered what really was Uncle Joe's profession or
occupation. For anything I know, he may have been a soldier, a sailor,
or a horse-marine; though, for the matter of that, I have so little
conception of what may be the duties of persons engaged in the latter
profession, that I should dispute the claims of nobody who averred that
he had belonged to it. All I know is, that he wore a blue coat with
brass buttons, had a hooked nose and a bright eye, and only possessed
one arm; the other I solemnly declare I have heard him state, on
different occasions, to have been shot off in battle, lost in saving
life from a shipwreck, when it got jammed between two planks of the
sinking ship, and bitten off by a tiger, under circumstances the
details of which I do not happen to remember--it was gone, however,
anyhow, was that left-arm of Uncle Joe's, and its loss must have had
this great consolation, that it furnished a foundation upon which he
built many a romance, pleasing to himself, and interesting to his
listeners.

He had been a mighty traveller, had Uncle Joe. From Canada to the
farthest extremity of South America, from Constantinople to Hong-Kong,
from the Straits of Gibraltar to the Cape, all was familiar to him;
whilst, as to continental Europe, there seemed to be no hole or corner
which he had not explored. England was like his own house to him; that
is to say, he knew every county and town in one as well as he knew
every room in the other. In fact, to hear him talk on these subjects,
you never would for a moment have guessed that which was the real
truth, namely, that he had never been further from England than Paris,
and had been so particularly ill in crossing the channel that nothing
but the fear of the laughter of his friends, coupled with his total and
entire ignorance of the French language, prevented his settling in
France for the rest of his life, sooner than again undergo the ordeal
of that terrible passage.

Happily for us children, (for this occurred before we were at the age
of story-hearing, or indeed at any age at all,) he _did_ face the
channel once more, and never sought to tempt it again. But all this I
only learned many years after, and during the whole of the early
portion of my life, I (in common, I am sure, with the great majority of
his acquaintance) set Uncle Joe down as a man who had seen more of the
world than most living men, and knew more of the geography of foreign
lands, as well as of the customs and manners of their inhabitants, than
anyone whom I ordinarily met.

With all this sin, if sin it be, of exaggeration, (one wishes to use a
mild word in speaking of a relative,) Uncle Joe's virtues greatly
predominated over any defects which he may have possessed. He was
good-natured to a fault--forgiving beyond most men--tender-hearted--a
faithful friend--and full of sympathy for the woes and sorrows of
others. I believe he lost a large sum of money in early life by
becoming surety for some one whom he thought to be a friend, and who
turned out to be an arrant scoundrel. Anyhow, he was far from rich, and
was not one of those uncles who have always got a sovereign ready for a
nephew going to school, or for spending at the confectioner's, if he
comes to see a young relative during school-time. Still, Uncle Joe was
the most popular of all our relations so far as the public opinion of
the school-room was concerned, and every juvenile heart rejoiced when
we were told that he was coming to spend Christmas at our home.

Upon one occasion he was expected to arrive upon the day before
Christmas Eve, and we were all greatly delighted at the prospect. Fanny
and Kitty, my two eldest sisters, were looking forward with much
pleasure to the visits to the school-room which Uncle Joe always paid
about tea-time, not only on account of the stories we were sure to
hear, but because it was so very amusing to see the violent efforts
which Miss Crinkles, the governess, used to make in order to avoid
going into fits of laughter at some of our uncle's jokes, and the
entire--though only temporary--loss of dignity which followed her
inevitable failure to keep her countenance. Tom and Gerald and I (Harry
is my name, and I was about twelve at the time of this story) were
equally interested, and little Lucy and Mary were employed for several
days beforehand in putting on their dolls' best dresses, that they
might be in a fit state to receive this honoured relation.

Well, the day before Christmas Eve came--as it always comes every year,
if you only look out for it--and our hearts beat high with expectation
of Uncle Joe. But no Uncle Joe appeared at luncheon time (he often
turned up about that time) and when tea-time had arrived, the hoped-for
visit was not paid. Presently the dressing-bell rang, half-an-hour
before dinner, and still no Uncle Joe. Even my father began to fidget
now, and to wonder where the expected guest could be, and my mother
became positively uneasy. If there was one thing rather than another
about which our uncle was particular, it was the important point of
being in time for dinner. The reason he always gave for this
particularity was his sense of the unfairness to the cook which was
occasioned by unpunctuality. No cook, he said, could contend against
it, and you had no right to expect a good dinner unless you were ready
to eat it at the hour for which it had been ordered.

The knowledge of this opinion on the part of Uncle Joe, and of the
firmness--not to say obstinacy--with which he always maintained
it--increased the uneasiness of my parents as the dinner hour grew
nearer and nearer without his appearance, and when half-past seven
arrived, and still no Uncle Joe, matters were held to be so serious
that messengers were despatched in several directions to make inquiries
whether anything had been heard or seen of the expected visitor. It was
fortunate that this step was taken, because otherwise there exists a
violent probability that this story might never have been told, and we
children should have had to mourn over the loss of our favourite
relative.

Uncle Joe was found lying by the roadside, barely a mile from our gate,
at a spot where a path ran parallel with the road, but some twelve feet
above it. His head was bruised and his left-arm broken, and, when
found, he was insensible. There was snow on the ground: it had frozen
during the day, and, about seven o'clock, light flakes of snow had
begun to fall again, so that if my poor uncle had lain where he was
much longer, he would either have been covered with snow, or frozen,
and could in no case have come well out of the business. His story was,
that, finding that he was at the station, some five miles off, in good
time, he thought he would walk over to our house and have his
portmanteau sent for from thence.

Some two miles from home there stood (and still stands) a convenient
public-house by the road-side, bearing the respectable sign of "The
Duke's Head," a staring picture of the head and shoulders of a man,
displaying the prominent nose and distinctive features of the great
Duke of Wellington, swinging gaily in front of the said inn. I believe
it is a very old inn, and was originally named after the great Duke of
Marlborough, and if England ever has another "great" Duke, I do not
doubt that _his_ picture will replace the present one, and the sign
will do equally well for _him_.

At this hostelry, said Uncle Joe, he had pulled up to have a glass of
hot brandy-and-water to cheer him on his way, and remembered to have
observed several rough-looking characters hanging about the place at
the time. He journeyed on, and at the spot at which he was found had
been attacked by three foot-pads, whom he declared that he had resisted
stoutly, but a blow with a short stick delivered by one of them had
felled him to the earth with a broken arm, while he had been rendered
insensible by a similar blow upon the head. The robbers seemed to have
had some object other than that of mere plunder, for although Uncle Joe
declared that they had taken all his money but half-a-crown, which was
found in his waistcoat-pocket, yet it was so seldom that he had much
more cash about him, that no one imagined that the robbers' booty could
have been great, whilst they had left his big silver watch and chain
untouched, and also the large old-fashioned silver pencil-case, which
he always carried about with him. This he attributed to the
stubbornness of his resistance, which had made the thieves glad to get
away from the neighbourhood of so desperate a fellow as quickly as
possible.

They were never traced, and as the snow soon afterwards came on more
heavily, their footsteps could have been scarcely seen after the space
of a very short time, and no one could tell in which direction they had
fled. There were some people, indeed, who winked their eyes wickedly,
and laid their fore-finger waggishly against the side of their noses
whenever allusion was made to the attack upon Uncle Joe. They were
unkind enough to declare that our good relative's story was true enough
up to the time of his stopping at the "Duke's Head," but that at that
point he had quitted the limits of strict veracity. They pretended to
have the authority of the landlord of that highly respectable inn for
the fact, that Uncle Joe, soon after six o'clock, came in and had, not
one glass, but three good "stiff" tumblers of brandy-and-water before
resuming his journey. They further maintained that he had gone on
merrily for a while after this, but that it had had sufficient effect
upon him to have rendered it very desirable that he should have kept in
the road instead of following the pathway above it. Choosing the
latter, however, he had lost his equilibrium at the spot near which he
was found, tumbled down the steep bank into the road, and in this
manner received the injuries to head and arm which he had undoubtedly
sustained. The landlord, moreover, said these unbelievers, indignantly
denied that any "rough-looking characters" had been near his house upon
that day, and declared that the only people there at or about the time
of Uncle Joe's visit were some Christmas ringers and singers preparing
for, or proceeding with, their visits to the neighbouring villages,
with the view of exchanging carols and hymns for pence and half-pence
wherever they found Christian people ready for such a transaction.

These reports and doubts, however, about Uncle Joe's misfortune never
reached us children at the time, and, if they had, we should not for a
moment have attached the smallest weight to them. In our eyes the
matter was one which placed our esteemed relative still higher in the
rank of heroes to which our childish thoughts had long since raised
him. Nor were we frightened at the idea of foot-pads or highwaymen
having suddenly made their unwonted appearance in our happy and
tranquil neighbourhood. It seemed to us only natural that curious and
unusual things should attend Uncle Joe wherever he went, and it was
with him and his life, and not with our home and its surroundings, that
we connected the circumstance of this new feature in the locality.

However, the truth or falsehood of the story mattered little to us, so
long as we had got our uncle safe and sound after all. There he was,
and there he continued for several weeks; for a broken head and arm
required attention, and he was nowhere so likely to receive it as at
our house. During this long visit we saw more of Uncle Joe than we had
ever done before, and it soon became an established practice that,
after our tea and before dressing-time, he should narrate to us some of
those wonderful stories of which I have spoken.

One of these I will relate, as nearly as possible in the words of my
revered uncle, in order that my readers may be able to imagine the kind
of way in which all his stories were told. But the other tales which I
propose to chronicle I will tell after a different fashion, relating
the substance of Uncle Joe's narrative, but leaving out the personal
allusions to his own prowess with which it was embellished. Those who
read have only to imagine that in the chief personage in every story
they discern Uncle Joe, and they will easily discover the little
alterations which I have thought it well to make in order to vary the
form of each tale. The one which I am now going to tell was a favourite
one with us boys, but the girls did not like so much killing, and
rather thought Uncle Joe must have been a more cruel man in the days
when these adventures happened to him than at the time he recounted
them. Since then I have read a great many books from the pen of Cooper,
Captain Mayne Reid, and Gustave Aimard, all dealing with the doings of
Red Indians, their subtlety, their treachery, their implacable revenge,
and other pleasing characteristics, and I have often thought that Uncle
Joe must have intended a parody upon some of their most stirring
recitals of Indian adventure in the following story. But, most
certainly, he told it as having happened to himself, and threw so much
vehemence into his manner of telling it, that we children never for a
moment doubted that such was the case.

I remember quite well the day he first told it to us; and how intensely
interested in it we all were. He began it at tea-time: I think he liked
to tell his most extraordinary and unlikely stories at tea-time for the
benefit of Miss Crinkles, and I sometimes wonder that the questions she
occasionally asked him did not create a suspicion in our minds that
there was some doubt as to the truth of some of his facts. But no such
suspicion, as far as I can recollect, ever dawned upon our childish
imaginations, and the only result of Miss Crinkles' questions was to
imbue us with increased awe and respect for our uncle, whom even our
governess could not readily understand without asking for further
information. It was, I say, at tea-time that this story was begun, and,
I think, finished. One of us boys had expressed a great desire to hear
of some Indian adventures, and Uncle Joe, ever ready to oblige, at once
commenced the following narrative, perhaps one of the least likely of
the many marvellous tales with which he ever favoured us.

"It was during the time which I passed in America that some of the
strangest and wildest adventures of my life happened. Perhaps none of
these was more remarkable than that which I am about to relate to you,
and indeed I question whether many people exist who have ever
encountered an adventure so extraordinary. I had roamed some way
through the dense forest, far from any human habitation, accompanied
only by my faithful dog "Jumbo," a magnificent Cuban bloodhound, who
never left my side, and was the cleverest as well as the bravest animal
I ever possessed. I had with me my trusty double-barrelled rifle, a
revolver, and a hunting-knife, and had for many days depended for my
supply of food upon my skill as a marksman. I remember that it was a
lovely day, and as the dense foliage of the woods protected me from the
heat of the sun, I rambled on and on in pleasant and listless security
for many a mile. At length it happened that I approached a large tree,
standing rather apart from its forest companions, and conspicuous not
only by the size of its trunk, but by the magnificent limbs which it
threw out on every side. I was already within a few yards of this tree
when I observed something which caused me to stand still and gaze upon
it before I advanced further. One large branch hung across my line of
march, and in a few seconds I should have passed immediately beneath
it; but it was something in connection with this very branch which
arrested my footsteps. The day was perfectly calm and still; not a
breath of wind was to be perceived, and yet I fancied that I saw the
leaves with which this branch was thickly covered, tremble and rustle
just as if a breeze was blowing through them. As I stood wondering what
could be the cause of this strange occurrence, and doubtful whether or
not to proceed, my doubts were cleared away in a manner more alarming
than agreeable. Suddenly I perceived, rearing itself among the leaves,
the hideous head of a gigantic snake. In another instant, whether to
re-arrange its position or for what other reason I know not, the
reptile dropped down from the branch to the length of some three or
four feet, and swing for a moment or two like the pendulum of a clock,
from the branch around which its tail and part of its body remained
curled. I could not tell how long or large it might be, but I saw quite
sufficient to assure me that it was a snake of very great size, and I
shuddered to think of my possible fate had I passed beneath the branch
in ignorance of its terrible tenant.

"I hastily retraced my steps for a few yards, and passing the tree at
some little distance, determined to quit the neighbourhood of so
dangerous a creature. The tree upon which it had taken up its position
was upon the side of a somewhat steep hill, and it so happened that I
had walked some way along the said hill very much lower down, and was
now working my way back in a line parallel to my previous passage.

"I had not gone many yards beyond the snake's tree, before the manner
of my dog attracted my attention. He threw up his head, sniffed the air
uneasily, and then gave vent to a low whine which, from previous
experience, I knew full well to betoken the presence of danger. At the
same moment, listening with eager attention, and with an acuteness of
hearing which those only possess who live such a life of wild,
dangerous activity as mine was at that time, I fancied that I heard the
cracking of a stick under the foot of man. It seemed to be at some
distance off, and apparently far below where I was standing. The trees
were too thick to enable me to see far, but creeping forward a little,
and standing on the trunk of a fallen tree, I endeavoured to look down
the hill as much as the fall of the ground permitted. It so happened
that there was a space of ground somewhat less thickly surrounded by
trees than the rest of the forest, over which I had passed in my
previous journey, and it was upon this space that I looked, being many
feet above it. You may imagine my feelings when I caught sight of an
Indian, fully armed and decked in his war-paint, just crossing this
space, and evidently examining the ground before him with the greatest
care. I should have thought but little of this, indeed, but for that
which followed. He crossed the space, and immediately after him came
nine of his companions, horrible-looking creatures, travelling in
single file and closely following in their leader's footsteps. Horror
of horrors! they were upon my track. I knew it but too well! there was
I, alone in the wild forest, with no less than ten deadly foes after
me, whose object undoubtedly was to take my life, and not improbably
with some of those tortures with which Indians delight to amuse
themselves at the expense of their captives.

"Now I happened to have a decided preference for living, if I could,
and, if I _must_ die, for dying in a respectable manner. The idea
of having my scalp torn from my head, and hung up in the wigwam of a
wild savage, was extremely repugnant to me, and I determined at once to
avoid such an unpleasant catastrophe if I possibly could. The question
was, however, as to the best way in which this could be accomplished.
If I pushed on through the forest, it could not be long before these
enemies, hardy and used to the woods, and animated with their savage
desire for my life, would overtake me, when, perhaps, I might be too
fatigued to offer any real resistance. If I stood firm where I was,
what could I hope to do against ten men? If, on the other hand, I
assumed a friendly air and advanced to meet them, I knew their
treacherous nature too well to harbour for an instant the thought that
they would treat me otherwise than as a captive taken in war. Indeed,
should it be otherwise, my best fate would probably be to be obliged to
join their tribe, very likely to marry several very unpleasant squaws,
and to drag out my weary existence far away from scenes into which
christianity or civilisation had penetrated. My aim, then, must be to
escape from the clutches of these savages by some method or another,
and I was indeed puzzled what to do. I had not much time to deliberate,
and after a moment's thought, I decided to lie down flat behind the
trunk of the tree on which I had been standing, and calmly await the
event. I looked carefully to my rifle and revolver, both of which I
ascertained to be loaded and ready for action, I bid my brave Jumbo lie
down at my feet, which the intelligent animal immediately did,
crouching quite close to the fallen tree, and then, having so disposed
my body that I could see under one of the branches of the tree, and
watch the approach of my enemies, I remained still and hoped for the
best. It seemed to me hours before they came near. In reality it could
not have been much more than half an hour, for the spot at which I had
seen them could have been barely three miles, even by the zig-zag line
which I had followed, and as I, having had no suspicion of the presence
of a foe, had taken no precaution to conceal my track, they were not
delayed in their pursuit by any trouble in discovering my footsteps. On
they came, steadily and silently, and I saw them from my hiding-place
rapidly approaching me. The foremost Indian had already arrived at the
spot from which I had gazed at the overhanging branch and its fearful
occupant, and stopped for an instant at the place where my footsteps
ended, evidently puzzled as to what I had done, and where I had gone
from that point.

"Not long, however, did he hesitate, but, casting a glance right and
left, moved rapidly forward towards the tree, to discover whether any
traces were to be found in that direction. Three or four of his rapid,
noiseless strides brought him beneath the fatal branch: enemy as he
was, I longed to warn him, despite the danger to myself, but it was
more than I dared venture to do, and in another instant it was too
late. With sudden and awful rapidity the snake darted downwards from
the branch and struck the unfortunate wretch--a piercing yell rang
through the woods, but the victim cried in vain. Encircled by the coils
of the mighty reptile, his doom was sealed beyond hope, and I turned my
head from the horrible sight of the last struggles of my miserable foe.
His companions rushed hastily back as they saw their leader's fate, and
I earnestly hoped that this misfortune would have induced them to
desist from their pursuit. It was not so, however, but after the lapse
of a few moments only, I saw them making casts like hounds directed by
a huntsman, and presently they discovered the place where I had turned
aside, and came eagerly forward on my track. There was no time to be
lost: they were little more than twenty yards from my tree, and I had a
full view of them. Nine more savage-looking rascals you never saw.
Their war-paint made them appear even more ugly than nature had made
them, although that was somewhat difficult. Only three of them carried
rifles, the rest being armed, as far as I could see, only with
tomahawks and hunting-knives. They were evidently "braves," or
warriors, all of them, and by their appearance and the expression upon
their faces, I felt very sure that they were in that excited state that
my chance of mercy would be but small if I should be so unfortunate as
to fall into their hands. I determined, therefore, to act with vigour
and decision, and, if the worst came to the worst, to sell my life
dearly at all events. When, therefore, my enemies were barely fifteen
yards from me, I suddenly sprang to my feet, uttering at the same time
the loudest and most outlandish howl I could command, by way of a
war-cry, which Jumbo echoed by a bark more like the roar of a lion than
the sound made by an ordinary dog. As I had expected, this sudden
movement on my part took the Indians entirely by surprise, and caused
them to come to a halt on the instant. Whilst they were thus stationary
I fired both barrels of my rifle as quickly as possible, selecting as
their object two of those who had firearms in their hands. The foremost
man threw up his arms and dropped like a log, whilst the bullet of the
second barrel, fired somewhat hastily, only struck an Indian in the
shoulder. Scarcely waiting, however, to see the result, I had no sooner
fired than I bounded down the hill, reloading as fast as I could, and
closely followed by the faithful Jumbo. The Indians, disconcerted by
the suddenness of my appearance and attack, stood still for a moment
without any effort to pursue me. Not long, however, was this the case,
for a wild yell of anger and revenge rang through the air, and I knew
that my relentless foes were again upon my track. I did not run far,
for being expert at loading, my rifle was soon ready, and I well knew
that all depended upon my speedy and effective use of the trusty
weapon. Not fifty yards from the spot whence I had fired my first shot,
I reached an open space, across which I bounded like a deer, and placed
myself behind a large tree upon the further side. A few seconds after,
and the enemy rushed into the space, and at a glance I perceived that
there were only seven. My shots, then, had both told! Inspirited by
this good fortune, I felt my nerves grow steadier on the instant, and
as the foremost savage bounded towards me, I fired upon him with deadly
effect. He fell; and his six comrades immediately sought shelter in the
bushes, but not before the shot from my second barrel reduced their
number to five. Without an instant's delay, I darted down the hill
again, at the base of which flowed a stream which I desired to reach,
hoping to find some place on the opposite bank where I might make a
stand. But my pursuers, grown wise by experience, no longer followed me
together, but, spreading out right and left ran silently yet swiftly
towards me. Full well did I know that they would do so, and that I must
use every stratagem within my power if I desired to escape with my
life.

"Accordingly, after I had gone a short distance, I seized the branch
of a tree, and swung myself up as quietly and quickly as I could,
motioning to Jumbo with my hand to continue his course, which the
clever animal did for some little way, and then stopped. It fell out as
I had hoped. Presently a light footstep came nearer and nearer to the
tree upon which I sat, and an Indian, creeping softly forward, stole
actually within three yards of the spot. He passed me and went silently
forward for a few steps, when again the report of my rifle rang through
the woods, and I had but four foemen to contend with. But I knew only
too well the risk I had run in order thus to diminish their number.
_I was no longer certain that all my enemies were behind me._ All I
_did_ know was, that four active, unwounded, ferocious men were
somewhere near at hand, thirsting for my blood, and that I had but my
rifle and my trusty hound to depend on to save me from their clutches.

"I remained perfectly still, not venturing even to reload my rifle, and
listened with an eagerness which became agony. Not a sound could I hear
of any sort or description. The Indians had evidently become alive to
their danger, and were employing all the cunning of their race in order
to avoid their own destruction and compass mine. Jumbo also was
certainly aware that he had a part to play, and was in all probability
lying still until I should summon him to my side. The suspense was
awful, and all the more so as I knew perfectly well that a false
move--or perhaps any move at all--might be fatal to my hopes of escape.

"How long this state of things endured I can hardly tell you, for my
nerves were strung to that tension that I could take no account of
time. It might have been, for aught I knew, five minutes or five hours,
but probably the former is more nearly correct. As soon as I had shot
the last Indian, I had drawn myself back to the thickest part of the
branch on which I sat, and believed that I was invisible to the eyes of
anyone below. I soon discovered my mistake, however, and that in a
manner which very nearly put an end to me and my adventure together. As
I waited anxiously for the next scene in this exciting drama, I
suddenly felt my hunting cap struck from my head, whilst the sound of a
rifle-shot rang unpleasantly near to my ears: a bullet had passed
through my cap within an inch of my head!

"One of the Indians had certainly caught sight of me, and, aiming from
some hiding-place hard by, had fired the shot which had so nearly
proved fatal.

"Of course it would have been sheer madness to remain where I was for
one moment longer, for another shot might, and probably would, prove
more successful. Quick as lightning the thought flashed through my
brain, that my only chance was to deceive my enemy into the belief that
he had accomplished his purpose. Accordingly, in an instant I dropped
heavily to the ground. Fortunately I had no great distance to fall, and
as I did so, I kept my rifle clasped closely to my breast. It happened
as I had anticipated, and even better than I had ventured to hope, for
the next moment all four of my foes came rushing through the wood from
different points, the man who had fired brandishing his rifle over his
head as he approached. He was within three or four yards of me when I
sprang suddenly to my feet, and fired directly into his breast, with
the natural result of checking his career for ever. No sooner had I
fired than I rushed again down the hill at full speed, calling to my
hound as I ran.

"The three remaining Indians did not stop with their slain friend for
an instant, but, incensed beyond measure at his death and the success
of my stratagem, followed me at best speed, much too closely to be
pleasant. I determined, however, to reach and cross the stream if
possible, and made every effort to do so. There was a small space
nearly clear of trees and bushes between the edge of the wood and the
stream, beyond which the wood again stretched away far and wide. I
reached this space, and was within a couple of yards of the stream when
my foes were upon me. Fearing that they might take me at disadvantage,
I turned and suddenly confronted them--three horrid looking ruffians
they were--their eyes gleaming with fury, and their appearance
altogether enough to frighten any civilised person out of his wits.

"When I turned they were four or five yards from me--most fortunately
none of them had firearms, not having stayed their pursuit to pick up
the rifles of their deceased companions--each of them, however, had his
tomahawk, and each hurled it at my head as I turned to face them.
Dropping suddenly on one knee, I was fortunate enough to escape these
weapons, which all whizzed harmlessly over my head: the three men were,
however, close at hand, and I had no time to escape them. At this
moment, however, I recollected an old trick of which I had read
somewhere or other, and which I instantly resolved to put in practice.
Rising from my knee, I rushed to meet one of the Indians, and as he
furiously came upon me, I suddenly stooped quite low, evaded the blow
which he struck over me, and seizing him by both ankles, lifted him by
sheer muscular strength over myself, so that he fell with great
violence upon his head several yards behind me, carried forward by the
force of his own weight and impetus. The other two were so confused at
this occurrence, that they lost the single moment in which they might
have struck me a deadly blow without the possibility of my warding it
off. The next moment Jumbo sprang upon one of them, whilst I confronted
the other.

"My first object was to seize the wrist of the hand which held his
hunting knife. I had no time to draw my own, and my only hope was to
deprive my enemy of his weapon. In an instant we closed and grappled
furiously. I kept firm hold of his wrist, however, well knowing that
this was my safety. After a short struggle we rolled on the ground
together, and the Indian's hand coming in contact with something hard,
he dropped the fatal knife. We were now upon more equal terms, but
still there were many chances against me. My foe was a tall, brawny,
muscular man, a hardy son of the woods, and, like myself, now fighting
for his life. Never shall I forget that moment. In the midst of that
terrible struggle, when I was putting forth all my strength and
concentrating every effort in order to gain the mastery, the pleasant
meadows of dear old England came up in a vision, as it were, before my
eyes, and familiar home scenes flashed like lightning across my sight.
I redoubled my efforts, but the savage had succeeded in grasping my
throat with one of his hands, and it was with the greatest difficulty I
could draw my breath. My eyes seemed to grow dull and heavy, there was
the roar of ten thousand surges in my ears, my temples throbbed as if
they would burst, and I felt creeping over me a terrible sensation of
despair, which I shall never forget whilst I have power to remember
anything.

"All at once there came upon my hearing the sound as of a short, sharp
roar of fury--the Indian's grasp was loosened--my sight came back to
me, again I heard, I recovered consciousness just sufficiently to see
my faithful Jumbo with his mighty teeth fixed in the throat of my dying
enemy, and then I sank back in a dead faint.

"How long I remained in this state it is impossible for me to say. I
was awakened by a soft, cooling sensation on my forehead, and opening
my eyes, regained sufficient consciousness to be aware that an Indian
maiden was bathing my feverish brow with cold water from the
neighbouring stream, whilst my dog, usually so ferocious, was couched
near, regarding her with friendly eyes, and evidently quite aware that
she was performing a kindly office, and was not to be interrupted. I
strove to speak; but my benefactress forbade me with an expressive
gesture, placing her finger lightly upon my lips.

"'White broder no speak,' she said, in the low guttural accents of her
race; 'no open him lips. Silence berry good. Talkee hurt.'

"I was too confused and, I hope, too grateful to disobey, and remained
perfectly quiet whilst the maiden continued her interesting occupation
for several minutes, during which time I had an opportunity of
attentively observing her. She was certainly one of the loveliest--nay,
_the_ loveliest of Indian maidens. Although she had not quite as
many clothes on as an European damsel would consider necessary, their
absence only served to disclose the perfect symmetry of her form, the
graceful rounding of her limbs, and the natural dignity of her every
movement. Her eyes, large and soft as those of the gazelle, were
fringed with the most magnificent eye-lashes you can imagine, and when
she cast them down, she presented an ideal of female modesty and
refinement, which could not be surpassed by the most fashionable young
lady that ever graced a London drawing-room. When she smiled, her face
lighted up like that of a lovely child when, just awakened, it sees the
loving face of its mother bending over it, and, in a word, purity,
innocence, and natural beauty seemed all concentrated in the form,
features, and expression of this child of the woods. Such at least was
the thought which occupied my breast as I lay still and gazed upon the
gentle being who was ministering to my wants in so agreeable a manner,
and I think I could have stayed in the same position some time longer
without any great desire to move. But, after a little while, the maiden
ceased to bathe my brow, and addressing me in the same tones as before,
said, 'White broder sit up now. Him better. Him no die dis time.' I
mechanically obeyed, sat up, and felt much better already. In fact,
there was no reason why I should not be so, for, save and except the
exertion and excitement which I had undergone, and the near approach to
strangulation from which Jumbo had providentially saved me, I had
really received no bodily injury. It really seems a strange thing to
look back upon, but here had been ten men against one poor wayfarer,
and yet the ten had perished, and he was left alive. I did not think,
however, of looking back at that moment; my thoughts were fixed upon my
new friend: who or what was she,--where did she come from,--could she
possibly be one of the tribe who had been upon my trail? If so, why
did she not kill and scalp me whilst I lay senseless on the ground?
Horrible thought! my head seemed to feel the knife, and I could fancy
the awful wrench with which one's scalp would go; but I had no need for
such thoughts. My scalp was safe and sound, and the maiden evidently
could not belong to my enemies. The only way to find out the truth
about her was to ask, so, adopting my style to her own, I began without
loss of time.

"'My sister very good;--kind to poor white broder. Where my sister come
from? How she happen to be in woods? Is she far from her home? And what
my sister's name?'

"The girl laughed, and looked down upon the ground as she replied at
once:

"'White broder ask many questions. Pale-face always much talkee.
Moon-eye not tell eberything. No good too much talkee.'

"I doubted what to say next. I had gained one piece of information
certainly, since the damsel evidently referred to herself as 'Moon-eye,'
which was undoubtedly an appropriate name for her, and had been given
by someone who was no bad judge of eyes in general, and hers in
particular. But I wanted to know a great deal more, whilst at the same
time I was anxious not to appear rude or inquisitive. So I remained
silent for a little while, when presently she rose to her feet and
addressed me in the following words:

"'Pale-face broder come now. "Moon-eye" show way.'

"I obeyed without hesitation, and prepared to go wherever she led, for
in fact I had no alternative. It was very unlikely that the girl was
alone in the forest, and if not, the eyes and ears of her friends might
even at this moment be within sight and hearing, in which case my
policy, as well as my inclination, would be to appear to be upon the
best possible terms with her, and to approach them in her company and
under her guidance. I felt somewhat weak when I attempted to walk, but
as it was only weakness, I knew it would soon pass away, and so said
nothing, but quietly followed my guide. She walked down to the little
stream before mentioned, then turned along its bank and proceeded for
several hundred yards until she came to a place where the water was so
shallow as to enable us easily to wade over, which we did, and plunged
into the woods on the other side. By this time, I thought I might as
well try to get a little more conversation out of my friend, and
therefore accosted her with some ordinary question, but she immediately
turned round and, placing her finger on her lips, said, in a voice so
low as to be little more than a whisper:

"'No talkee--enemy in woods. Moon-eye prisoner once. No want catchee
again.'

"For the first time the truth now dawned upon me, and I understood the
reason of the exceeding kindness bestowed upon me by the Indian damsel,
which I had previously attributed either to her own natural humanity,
or to admiration for my noble and prepossessing appearance. But, as I
afterwards discovered,'Moon-eye' had been carried off from her tribe by
a party of thieving Indians, who, in order to elude pursuit, had
divided in their journey, ten of them being entrusted with the captive
maiden. While passing through this part of the woods, they had struck
my trail, and, seeing it to be recent, had left the prisoner bound, and
hastily followed, intending to finish me off before they continued
their journey. Fortunately for me it had turned out otherwise, but it
might not have been fortunate for 'Moon-eye' had she not succeeded in
freeing herself from the bonds in which she had been left. They must
have been less carefully tied than most Indian fastenings that I have
seen; but I fancy the girl had rather deceived her captors by
pretending to go with them more willingly than was really the case, and
perchance a desire to avoid injuring her in any way had induced the
Indians to fasten her less tightly and securely than they might
otherwise have done. Anyhow, she contrived to get loose, and also to
find her way to the spot where I lay senseless, and where, as we have
seen, she treated me with a care and tenderness which I little expected
to encounter in the depth of the forest.

"Being admonished to silence I said no more, and we tramped on in
silence, followed by the brave Jumbo. We had gone thus above a mile,
when we heard a yell which proceeded from the direction of the place we
had quitted. My companion stopped short, and turning to me, said, in a
low voice:

"'More bad Indian. Him hear shot. Him come back and find him broder
shot. Him follow soon now. If catchee Moon-eye and pale-face broder,
him killee for sartain.'

"This being very much my own opinion, I asked the girl how far off her
friends were, and as she now saw that something more than mere
curiosity dictated the question, she replied at once:

"'Two--tree--twenty mile. Bad Indian catchee before get to camp.'

"On further inquiry I found that she thought there must have been full
fifty of the robbers who had attacked the camp of her people when most
of the warriors were absent--that they had captured several other
prisoners besides herself--that they had divided into three parties,
doubtless for the sake of greater safety in their flight, and that one
of these parties had sundry horses laden with plunder, whilst the other
party had the remaining captives. In all probability the shots fired
during my combat with the ten Indians, who had been in charge of her,
had been heard by one or both of these parties, and the cries we now
heard proceeded from them. They would certainly follow upon our trail,
and our chances of escape depended as much upon the numbers of our
pursuers as upon any skill or strength of ours. For if thirty or forty
warriors were behind us, not only would resistance be vain, but we
should probably be surrounded before we had travelled far, whereas if
only a few of the savages had returned, and made the discovery of the
death of their friends, there was greater hope that we might elude
them. Our only chance was to push on, and, having more than a mile
start, we must make the best of it. Accordingly,'Moon-eye' advanced
rapidly and cautiously, and I followed her, through the forest, and we
must have gone quite another mile before we exchanged a word. By this
time we had arrived at a sort of hill, upon which the trees grew less
thickly than at other parts of the forest. At the foot of this hill the
ground broke away to the right, the trees became still more scanty, and
a wide chasm yawned at the distance of some twenty yards from where we
stood, the descent into which was down a precipice many feet in height,
whilst on the other side of the chasm the forest rose again, and grew
on in unbroken continuity. To the left the trees were somewhat thicker,
and some forty or fifty yards before us, as we bore to that side in
ascending the hill, we perceived a building of some sort, towards which
my companion directed her way. Making me a sign to remain where I was
for a moment, she crept forward to reconnoitre, and presently
returning, motioned me to follow her, whilst she made her way directly
to the right, in the direction of the precipice, to the very edge of
which she advanced. Thence we looked down into a frightful abyss, down
which, if one had tumbled, one would have had no chance of escape. Bits
of jagged rock projected here and there; vegetation seemed suspended
for some distance down, and then the eye rested upon thick and tangled
bushes jutting out from the sides of the rock, and completely
concealing the bottom of the chasm, if, indeed, it had any bottom at
all, for it might be endless as far as one could see from the top.
Leaning carefully forward, my companion tore a branch or two from the
bushes growing near the edge of the precipice, and gave the place the
appearance of having been disturbed by the passage of some heavy body.
She then took from my neck a handkerchief, which I had on by way of a
neck-cloth, and which I did not in the least want to part with, but, of
course, gave it up readily at her request; then she calmly dropped it
over the side of the precipice, so that it hung upon one of the few
bushes which grew a little way down the chasm. She then turned to me
and said, in a low voice:

"'Bad Indian tink him fall down cliff--no follow any more;' and with
these words noiselessly retraced her way, treading so carefully in her
former footsteps as to make it appear as if there was only one trail,
and that pointing _towards_ the precipice.

"When we had arrived at the spot from which she had previously gone to
reconnoitre, we slowly ascended by the same way she had travelled
before, carefully covering up and hiding all trace of our footsteps
until we had reached the building to which I have already alluded.

"It was apparently composed entirely of logs, and seemed as if it had
been built for the lodge, or more likely a place of refuge, for some
hunting party. The logs were roughly hewn, but skilfully laid together,
forming a strong building, with only one entrance, and that by means of
a door which had long since been broken down and destroyed. There were,
however, two stories to the building, and as soon as we had entered the
doorway, we found ourselves in a large room, some ten feet high at
least, with a strong flooring of logs overhead. 'Moon-eye' rapidly made
her way to one corner of this place, where stood some rude wooden
steps, above which was an opening in the flooring above. These she
ascended, motioning me to follow, and we presently crept through the
opening into the upper room. This was lighted by two windows, one at
each side, and had a stout roof overhead. There was no furniture
whatever in it, but only a number of dried leaves, which seemed to have
blown in at the windows from time to time, since the place had been
deserted. 'Moon-eye' trod gently across the floor towards one of those
windows, and on following her I found that it commanded a view in the
direction from which we had come, but a view limited of course by the
trees which grew within a short distance of the building. Turning to
me, the girl now whispered in her own guttural accents:

"'Bad Indian no come here, 'fraid of wicked spirit--kill much hunter
here one day--times ago.'

"I gathered from this remark that the place in which we were, had been
the scene of some cruel massacre by the Indians in days past, and that
the savages probably avoided it from superstitious fear. This gave me a
double pleasure, for whilst it increased my hopes of safety for the
maiden as well as for myself, it showed me, that she was one of those
Indians whom superior intelligence, and perhaps a better education than
is common among the females of her race, had raised above their common
prejudices. Her plan was easily to be perceived. Could the pursuers be
led to believe that we had fallen down the precipice, perhaps having
turned aside from our path with a natural desire to avoid the haunted
building, they would perhaps abandon further pursuit, and continue
their journey. The place in which we now were, might have been easily
defended by a few men against a much larger number of enemies; and, as
I had my rifle with me, I might have made a stand even where I was, but
it was absolutely necessary to leave the door and the aperture into the
upper room open, inasmuch as the sight of any defence, however slight,
would at once disclose our hiding-place to those who sought us. Nor,
indeed, was there much time for consideration as to the best plan to
adopt. In going to and returning from the edge of the precipice, and
subsequently in concealing our trail, we had occupied some little time;
and scarcely had we reached the upper story, than a yell arose from the
forest which betokened the immediate advance of the foe. There was but
a moment for reflection; through the chinks of the logs near one of the
windows, we could see without being seen, and here we took our station,
watching and waiting in breathless suspense. We had not long to wait.
For some little time all was silence, and the forest looked so peaceful
and lovely, that it was difficult to believe it full of savage enemies
thirsting for our blood.

"Meanwhile, I have forgotten to tell you of that which was at one
moment our great difficulty, namely, my old friend Jumbo. Invaluable as
he was in a fight, when the question became one of concealing a trail,
he was very much the reverse. His trail was easy enough to discover,
and we were rather puzzled what to do about it. The dog, however, was
so intelligent that I felt sure he would understand the necessity of
our separation for a time. So when we turned from our first track in
order to approach the building, I pointed into the woods in the
contrary direction, and bade him in the most impressive manner to go
and wait for me there. The clever animal looked at me for a moment as
if to fully take in what I had said, and then quietly turned round and
entered the forest in obedience to my command. We were, therefore,
unincumbered by his presence whilst we awaited the coming of our
enemies in breathless anxiety in the upper story of the building.

"The savages were doubtless following up our trail all this time,
silently, slowly, but surely. The yells we had heard at first, were of
course caused by their discovery of the bodies of their friends: why
there had been a second yell, I have never discovered to this day,
unless it was that they had lost our trail for a moment, and that it
had been found again by some young warrior who had not sufficient
experience or self-restraint to prevent his announcing the welcome fact
by a shout. However this may be, they yelled no more, and after we had
waited for some ten minutes or less, the party arrived at the spot
whence we had ascended the hill, that is to say, within some fifty
yards of the place where we lay.

"As I have already said, the trees were thinner here than elsewhere,
and we could from this cause see sufficiently well to discern objects
moving about at that distance.

"It was late in the afternoon now, but the light was still good, and
'Moon-eye' looked with keen and anxious eyes through the chinks of the
logs in the direction of the savages. Though we could not count them,
we soon saw that there were certainly more than twenty of the rascals.

"The truth was, that _both_ the other two parties had heard the firing
which occurred during my fight with the ten who had attacked me, but
neither party liked to retrace their steps with their captives, and
each had therefore again divided, and sent back a portion of their
number to follow up the matter. These two divisions had met, and their
meeting and explanations had probably caused just that delay which had
enabled us to take shelter in our present place of refuge.

"All was silence for a few moments longer, whilst we saw the dusky
forms of the savages flitting, like evil spirits, through the trees at
the foot of the hill, and moving in the direction in which we had gone.
Then presently came a tremendous yell of mingled surprise and
disappointment. They had evidently arrived at the spot where we wished
them to believe we had fallen over the precipice. There was no more
silence now, but on the contrary a Babel of tongues arose, and the
savages chattered one to another like a number of old women over their
washing-tubs, if I may make such an irreverent comparison.

"My companion turned her head to me and smiled pleasantly, whilst her
eyes laughed with joy:

"'Sioux fool,' she whispered (from which remark I first learned the
tribe to which our foes belonged). 'Pawnee girl cheat him well. No
cheat Pawnee warrior so!'

"I said nothing, for I did not like the silence that suddenly ensued.
Whether some wiser chief had spoken, or what was the reason, I knew
not, but the clamour and confusion ceased all at once, and the Indians
began to return from the edge of the precipice, and spread themselves
around the foot of the hill as if in search of some new trail, or to
make sure that they had made no mistake. Still we lay quite quiet,
convinced that this was our best chance of safety, and hoping that the
superstitious fears of the savages would keep them from entering our
hiding-place.

"As they took no particular pains to conceal their movements, we could
plainly hear the leaves rustle, and the dried sticks crash as they
tramped through the surrounding woods; but for some time no one
approached the building. Then, all of a sudden, we heard a footstep
close below us. How we wished that it was a couple of hours later, when
we might have hidden more securely in one of the dark corners of the
room. This, however, was impossible, and we could only lie still where
we were, still trusting that even if an Indian were found bold enough
to enter the place in which we were, he would be content with
inspecting the lower apartment. Presently the step entered the
building, stealthily as that of a wolf creeping after his prey. A
moment of intense anxiety followed, to be succeeded by one of as
intense disgust. The steps creaked beneath the weight of a man, and the
head and shoulders of a powerful savage appeared above the opening. For
one instant he gazed round, his eyes being as yet unaccustomed to the
imperfect light.

"Had I been alone, I should probably have closed the aforesaid eyes
with a bullet then and there, but my companion restrained me with a
gesture, and in another second it was too late. The Indian naturally
said 'Hugh,' in a deep guttural tone. I never knew or read of an Indian
who did _not_ say 'Hugh' in a similar emergency, and the next moment he
disappeared. Then arose a shout which summoned his comrades, and within
a couple of minutes, my companion and I were standing outside the
unlucky building, with five-and-twenty of the most unpleasant looking
savages howling around us, in a manner doubtless most delightful to
themselves, but to us the very reverse.

"The gentleman who had discovered us was evidently the chief of the
party. He had got my rifle, confound him, and stood regarding us with
such a complacent, self-satisfied air that I would have paid down
half-a-crown cheerfully to have had one drive at his nose with my
clenched fist. This, however, was out of the question, partly because
it would have been a very rash and foolish proceeding under existing
circumstances, and partly because it would have been somewhat
difficult, seeing that my arms were securely fastened behind my back
with ropes of bark. Poor 'Moon-eye' was also bound, and did not seem
much to approve of the arrangement.

"The chief now approached us, and looked me steadfastly in the face,
whilst I, having nothing better to do, looked back at him. Presently he
gave a deep kind of cough or clearing of the throat, and after uttering
the usual 'Hugh,' remarked that he was 'Pig-face,' and a very great
chief. To this I responded, in plain English, that I didn't think much
of the name for beauty, but had no doubt but that he was a tremendous
'swell' in his own country, to which remark he gravely bowed assent,
evidently not understanding a word of it. He then came close to me,
and, lightly touching me on the shoulder, exclaimed in a somewhat
excited tone, 'Pale-face tief--no good--kill Pig-face young man--carry
off Pig-face squaw--must die.'

"Before I could by any possibility reply, 'Moon-eye' had interposed
with a torrent of invective of which I had scarcely supposed her
capable. She was terribly disgusted, I think (and no wonder at it) at
being called Pig-face's squaw by that illustrious chief, and she
certainly told him so in pretty plain terms, if her language (which I
did not understand) at all corresponded to her voice and manner. This
scene, however, could not last long. Although the Indian chief had
kindly informed me of my doom, it was not his intention that it should
be immediately fulfilled. He and his party had travelled many miles
that day, and felt inclined for a rest before going further; added to
which I imagine that they thought it would be more congenial to their
feelings to kill me in their own village. Accordingly, they very kindly
postponed that operation for the present, and leading us to a spot not
more than half a mile distant from our late refuge, prepared to encamp
for the night. Each of us captives, lady as well as gentleman, was
bound to a tree, which is by no means the easiest position in which to
pass the night, especially when vigilant eyes are upon you the whole
time, which was the case in this instance, as the Indians relieved each
other every two hours, so that we were closely watched through the
whole night, and had no opportunity of communicating with each other.
Early in the morning the party again set out, and poor 'Moon-eye' and
I, but little rested, were forced to accompany them, much against our
inclination. I will do the savages the justice to observe that they
loosened the girl's arms during the morning, but as they neglected to
perform the same kindness in my case, I felt remarkably uncomfortable.
We journeyed along for some distance, until we came to an open grassy
space, upon which we halted, and our captors, producing some venison
meat, sat down to make a meal, unbinding my arms for a while, and
pressed both me and my companion to share their food. I had carefully
counted their number during our march, and found that there were
twenty-four men, besides the excellent chief Pig-face, so that even if
I had been free and armed, I could neither have resisted nor escaped
from so great a number. I therefore determined to forbear from any such
attempt, which, besides being useless, might increase the severity of
our treatment.

"As we sat, the chief again approached us and indulged in some more
conversation. He spoke after the usual fashion of Indians, praising
himself and his people a good deal, abusing me and all white people
generally, and assuring me that my scalp should hang at his belt before
many days were past. I bethought me of all the wise things which I had
read of as having been said by 'Hawk-eye,' in Fennimore Cooper's
immortal books, and could have prated for half an hour about 'White
man's gifts,' and 'Red man's gifts,' if I had been so disposed. As,
however, the only 'gift' which I desired at that moment was one which
would have enabled me to set my companion and myself free, I did not
care to indulge in those sage moral reflections which always seemed to
me as I read them singularly out of place and extremely unlikely to
have formed part of the conversation of a backwoodsman. I therefore
merely thanked the savage, and informed him at the same time that my
scalp was exceedingly comfortable where it was, and that I had no
desire for its removal, a remark which he received with much composure,
and probably imagined to be a reply entirely to the purpose. Then he
began to tell my beautiful Moon-eye that she was foolish to have run
away, that no one could withstand Pig-face, and that she should
undoubtedly share his wigwam before long.

"The maiden heard him this time in dignified silence, and after a while
he left off talking, and directed his people to prepare to continue
their journey.

"We walked for a considerable distance, and having re-crossed the
stream near which my first encounter had taken place, travelled for
several miles without the occurrence of any incident worthy of note
until the second evening arrived. Whether the savages felt more secure
on account of being nearer their village, or from any other cause, I
cannot say, but certain it is that they now so far relaxed their
vigilance as to suffer my arms to be unbound for a time, and neither I
nor Moon-eye were apparently so closely watched during the supper hour.
Still, we knew but too well that keen eyes were upon us, and that
flight was out of the question.

"When the Indians had finished their meal, my companion and I were both
tied again, but not so fast as before, or at least not in so
objectionable a manner. We were suffered to lie down, our hands were
fastened before us, and a rope round one ankle secured each of us to a
tree. So darkness crept over the forest, and the savages were soon
buried in sleep.

"Presently a low whine attracted my attention, and I perceived my
faithful Jumbo, who had evidently followed us all the journey, too wary
to expose himself to view before he saw an opportunity of being of use.
Creeping gently up to me now, the affectionate brute first licked my
hands and face, though the latter was an attention with which I confess
I could have dispensed. Then he began gently to gnaw the bark ropes
which bound my wrists, and in a very short time succeeded in freeing my
hands. At that instant one of the Indians started up. Jumbo slunk away
in the shadow of the trees, whilst I kept my position, and endeavoured
to appear as if I was fast asleep. The savage was soon satisfied, and
lay down again, but I did not move for some minutes. Then I put out my
hand and reached a knife which one of the party had carelessly left
within my reach; with this I severed the fastening which held me to the
tree, and crawling a few yards, performed the same office for my
companion.

"Still we were not much better off, for if we ventured to fly, we were
certain to be speedily pursued and brought back. Therefore we looked at
each other with a mutually disconsolate air, and hesitated what to do
next. At this moment the hoot of an owl broke upon our ears. The eyes
of the Indian maiden opened to their fullest extent: her nostrils
seemed to tremble with excitement as she listened, and her features
worked with a convulsive movement. The cry was repeated.

"'Pawnee near--that him cry,' whispered the girl, and sat upright to
listen again.

"At that moment Pig-face suddenly sprang to his feet, as if he too had
heard and recognized the sound. But before he had time to utter a word
or cry, a furious yell broke the stillness of the night, and the
well-known war-cry of the Pawnees rang through the air. A band of these
brave people had started in pursuit of their enemies as soon as they
had discovered the theft of the latter, and the carrying off of
Moon-eye, upon their return to the camp. The Sioux would probably have
got clear off if, in the first place, the party of ten had not been so
desirous of getting my scalp, and if, in the second place, their
friends had not thought it necessary to attempt to revenge their death.
The time which they had lost in following and capturing us had enabled
the Pawnees to overtake them, and their surprise was complete. I must
say for the fellows that they lost no time in flying, and that too with
amazing dexterity, for they disappeared like magic on all sides,
Pig-face included. Fortunately for them, the anxiety of the Pawnees to
recover the lost maiden was much in favour of their escape, for it
appeared that the warriors had reasoned, wisely enough, that if they
surrounded the camp, the position of the captives might be dangerous,
whereas if they attacked on one side only the enemy would, in all
probability, be principally occupied in securing his own safety.

So, indeed, it turned out, and out of the twenty-five savages who had
captured us, I believe that nearly one-half escaped unhurt. More might
have done so if the gallant Jumbo had not thought it necessary to take
an active part in the combat, which he did by pursuing and pulling down
several of the Sioux, who thus became easy victims to their pursuers.

"Pig-face and four of his men were taken unhurt, and when our friends
re-assembled, and congratulations had passed between them and Moon-eye,
the latter, having introduced me to her tribe, told them of the fate
which the Sioux chief had intended for each of us.

"The leader of the Pawnees, who rejoiced in the name of 'the
Rattle-snake,' and was painted to represent that interesting animal,
approached the unhappy Pig-face after this, and gave him a piece of his
mind upon the subject. I did not understand what he said, of course,
being, as I told you before, somewhat ignorant of their language; but I
knew by the manner of the two that they were going on after the usual
Indian fashion, the one telling the other that he should soon be tied
to the stake, and what jolly fun it would be to torture him till he
howled again, and the other replying that he was a great chief, that
the other belonged to a nation of women, and that if he tortured him as
he said, he would see that a chief knew how to die.

"When they had satisfied themselves with this little interchange of
compliments, 'the Rattle-snake' came up to me and spoke in his own
language, saying, I have no doubt, several things which I should have
very much liked to understand. I suppose, however, that my countenance
showed him that he might as well have been talking to one of the trees,
for he presently turned to Moon-eye and beckoned her to approach, which
she accordingly did. Then he spoke to her in the same tongue, and she
interpreted what he said to me in her pretty broken English.

"'Chief say he tank pale-face broder for kill bad Indian. Pawnee him
friend,--white skin, Pawnee heart.'

"When I understood what the girl said, I replied at once that I was
very much obliged for his good opinion, but that as a matter of fact my
killing the bad Indians was not on account of any particular friendship
for his tribe, but because if I had not done so, the beggars would
certainly have killed _me_. 'The Rattle-snake' listened to this
explanation with great attention, and answered through the interpreter
that this was doubtless very true, inasmuch as these thieving Indians
would kill any fellow they found in the woods if it suited their
purpose; but that, nevertheless, a warrior who had assisted in
disposing of so many Sioux _must_ be a friend to the Pawnees, even if
he had never heard of them before.

"There was no arguing against such a reason as this, and I therefore at
once professed myself as a decided friend to the Pawnees, then and for
ever. To tell the truth, I was not disinclined to become so, since
Moon-eye had made such a deep impression upon me, that I felt a natural
liking towards her people. The thought had several times crossed my
mind during the last few days, whether I should not be much happier if
I gave up the roving life which I had followed so long, and settled
down comfortably in some quiet nook of the world, exchanging continual
restlessness for domestic tranquillity. Coupled with this thought came
another, namely, that I had become so unused to the polished manners of
civilized people, that an Indian home and an Indian bride might
possibly bring me more happiness than a return to my native land. So I
resolved to accept the offer of the Pawnees to return with them to
their own village, and bethought me at the same time that if I could
but win the heart of the lovely Moon-eye, I might settle down among her
people and become a regular Pawnee.

"Perhaps, my dear children, this might have been the case, and your
dear uncle might now have been walking about with his head shaved for
the most part, with an eagle's feather behind his ear, moccasins on his
feet, and in every respect a perfect Indian. One little circumstance
alone prevented me, and this was the painful fact that Moon-eye herself
took a different view of the case. I soon discovered that her young
affections had long been fixed upon a young chief of her tribe, who
enjoyed the appellation of 'the Rising Sun,' and as he seemed to return
the young lady's feelings, I thought I should only get into hot water
if I acted upon my first idea. So I forthwith made up my mind that it
would be a shocking thing for a white man of my education and position
to marry an ignorant Indian girl, and that it was evidently my duty to
think no more of it.

"I went to the Pawnee's village with them and stayed for a few weeks
very happily. You will perhaps be glad to hear that Pig-face and his
young men were not tortured after all. They were exchanged for
prisoners whom the Sioux had taken in their last raid, and I never
heard any more about them. Moon-eye was very gracious to me whilst I
was with her people, but it annoyed me to see that fellow 'Rising Sun'
always following her about, and I therefore shortened my stay.

"Jumbo and I took our departure early one morning, and were accompanied
by a number of the tribe for some distance on our way. We had many more
curious adventures together in the woods, my trusty companion and I,
and very lucky we were to have come so well out of them all. But on
looking back to my forest and wilderness life, I never remember to have
had a more stirring adventure than that of which I have just told you.
It sometimes comes back to me now, as I lie awake at nights: I fancy I
see those ten vagabonds tramping after me through the woods,--then
comes the horrid scene with the snake--the battle--the slaughter--the
waking--the flight with Moon-eye--the capture--the rescue,--all comes
flitting like a vision before my eyes, and I drop to sleep at last,
wondering how I have been preserved through so much trouble and so many
dangers, and thinking how lucky it is for you young ones to have a
respectable old uncle with so many experiences to relate, and such
interesting and curious tales with which to instruct and amuse your
young minds."




ZAC'S BRIDE.


King Fridolin sat gloomily in the ancient halls of his race. A mighty
race, forsooth, had they been for many a long year, and a mighty king
was Fridolin. I shall not tell you the precise situation of his
kingdom, for it is only by avoiding particular descriptions that we
historians escape a variety of impertinent and troublesome questions.
Suffice it to say that the monarch ruled over a territory of goodly
size, containing mountains, forests, houses, vineyards, cornfields, and
everything else which the neighbourhood of a mighty river could supply.
For a river, mighty, indeed, in size and reputation, flowed through his
kingdom, and was the principal glory of his land. The monarch had
succeeded to the throne at an early age, and had reigned for long years
over his people. They, poor creatures, had apparently only been created
in order to minister to his comfort. Ground down by oppressive
taxation, their spirits broken, their bodies subject to the will of
their despotic master, their homes held only at his pleasure, and
scarcely daring to call their very thoughts their own, they dragged on
such a miserable existence as was permitted to them, without a hope or
an idea that their condition could ever be improved by any effort of
their own. But with him, their imperious lord, the case was surely
different. He, one would have imagined, had everything to make him
happy. Lands, vassals, money--what would he more? And yet King Fridolin
sat gloomily in his ancient halls. His crown was upon his
head--surmounted by his favourite crest, representing the figure of an
eagle clapping its wings; his left hand rested upon the hilt of the
mighty sword which he and his fathers before him had so often wielded
in battle, whilst in his right hand he held a watering-pot, by means of
which he tormented his Lord Chamberlain, who, having offended him, and
being troubled with a bad cold, had been ordered to stand below the
balcony upon which his majesty sat, whilst the royal hand let iced
water fall upon his bald head. But even as he watered, King Fridolin
pondered, and melancholy were his thoughts the while. Broad, indeed,
were his lands, full were his coffers, obedient his vassals, but he
lacked that sunshine of the heart, without which life is dull and heavy
at the best. Moreover, he had no one who dared to contradict him, no
one who ventured to suggest to him any alteration in his way of living,
no new occupation which could relieve him from the oppressive dulness
under which he suffered. So there he sat, watering and thinking and
wishing for he knew not what--_anything_ to relieve the dreary monotony
of his existence. Suddenly he started up.

"I've hit it!" he cried--which, if he referred to the Lord
Chamberlain's head, he certainly had, for, as he spoke, the
watering-pot fell directly upon the bald pate of that unlucky
functionary.

"I've hit it!" again cried the king--and the Chamberlain was not
prepared to dispute the statement. In fact, the king gave him no time
to do so, for the next moment, apparently forgetting his cause of
displeasure against the high official in question, he eagerly called
him up to the balcony, and bade him listen to the development of a new
idea which had suddenly entered his royal brain.

"Pompous," he cried (for such was the name of the Lord Chamberlain),
"Pompous, I've thought of something!"

"Happy the thing which has had the honour of occupying your majesty's
mind," returned the ancient courtier, deeming it right to preserve
honey upon his tongue, although bitter gall was in his heart, in
consequence of the treatment to which he had just been exposed.

"Don't be an ass, Pompous!" replied the king hastily. "I tell you I've
thought of something. Guess what it is."

The Lord Chamberlain drew himself up to his full height, bowed low,
coughed, hemmed, and, after repeating this process several times,
meekly answered that he could not tell what his gracious majesty might
have been pleased to think of.

"Tell? Why, of course not, you old noodle," said the King, whose manner
of addressing his attendants was occasionally barely polite. "Who
expected you to tell? I told you to _guess_, but since you are too
stupid to do so, I may as well tell you what it is. We'll have a
pig-race!"

"A _what_, your majesty?" faltered out the Lord Chamberlain.

"A pig-race, you old idiot!" roared the king into his ear. "P I G, pig,
R A C E, race--_pig-race_. Do you hear now?"

And the old man was obliged to own that he did; but although he heard,
he hardly understood what the king could really mean. Old Pompous,
however, was a thorough courtier, and having had the misfortune to
offend his royal master _once_ that morning, was far too good a
judge to do so again, if he could by any possibility avoid it. He
therefore put on a smiling face, declared that the idea was excellent,
and pretended to enjoy it vastly, all the time wondering what could
have caused the king to think of such a ridiculous project, and by what
means it could ever be carried out. Whether any difficulty had
suggested itself to the mind of the king, or what had put the project
into his head at all, are questions which it is both useless and
unnecessary to ask. It is sufficient to know that there it was, and
when the despotic king of a country has a practical idea, something
generally happens in consequence, and it is a fortunate thing for his
people if it is nothing worse than a pig-race. Now it happened that the
kingdom of Fridolin was famous for its breed of pigs. They grew to a
very large size, and were much thought of by the people of that and
neighbouring countries, who bred, bought, sold, and ate them to a great
extent. A pig-race, however, was not a common event, nor, indeed, had
one ever been heard of in the memory of the oldest inhabitant. A pig
had certainly been more than once turned out, on festive occasions,
with his tail soaped, and a prize given to the rustic who should
succeed in securing the animal by holding on to that appendage; but
this was not what the king meant. He announced his intention of giving
a prize, to be run for by pigs, each pig to be ridden by a boy under
fourteen years of age, and fixed that day month for the event. Pompous
received the order with obsequious readiness, and was too wise to raise
any objection to the project, or express any doubt as to the
possibility of carrying it out. Next morning, accordingly, it was made
known to the world, and the whole kingdom was agitated from one end to
the other. It was not a great racing country; but, if it had been, a
race between pigs, and pigs, too, ridden by boys, would have been a
novelty, and the publication of the king's intentions caused a great
deal of surprise and excitement. The race was to take place upon a
common in the immediate neighbourhood of the capital city of the
kingdom, and the course, which was to be half a mile long, was settled
and marked out long before the day arrived on which the event was to
come off. A great number of competitors had entered for the race, and
it was calculated that at least twenty would start. Some complaints
there had been of the shortness of time allowed for training either
boys or pigs; but that was not a country in which many complaints were
made against anything the king did, as those who made them generally
had their heads cut off with a promptitude which had a signal effect in
preventing others from following their example. So there was very
little said against the arrangements which had been made, and people
only talked of the curious scene they expected to witness, and
speculated upon the chance of success possessed by the pigs which came
from their several neighbourhoods. As the day approached, the
excitement increased, and every available lodging was occupied in
anticipation of the great event. It is right to state, perhaps, that
the intensity of the interest caused by the coming race, was not only
due to the love of sport which existed in that country. King Fridolin
had perhaps no other intention than that of providing amusement for
himself, when he first set on foot the race which now attracted so much
of public attention, although he had, as a truly gracious monarch, no
objection to his subjects sharing that amusement, so long as his own
would not be lessened thereby. But when he came to consider the nature
of the prize which he should offer, another thought struck him, upon
which he had immediately acted.

He had read and heard of many kings who, upon suitable occasions, when
they wanted their country to be delivered from some misfortune, or if
they desired to obtain the performance of some mighty deed of valour,
or some great feat of agility, had endeavoured to get what they wanted
by offering the hand of their daughter as the prize for which all
efforts should be made.

This kind of proceeding had, of course, its disadvantages, as, in a
country where only one wife was permitted, the prize would be one which
shut out at once from competition all married men, and thus greatly
limited the possible number of competitors. But Fridolin was in a
peculiar position in this respect.

In the first place, as only boys of tender age were to ride, there was
very little probability that any of them would be married, and, in the
next place, he had a daughter whom he thought very unlikely to be
married, unless by some clever contrivance such as that which he had
now planned. Belinda was the youngest of three princesses who owned
Fridolin for their father, and she was at this time just ten years of
age. But, unhappily, whilst her two sisters, the Princesses Amabilia
and Concaterina were lovely and well shaped, Belinda had no such
recommendations. Her mother, having had the misfortune to offend a
powerful and wicked witch, had expired, through her machinations,
shortly after the birth of her third daughter. One would have supposed
that the vengeance of a witch would have been satisfied by the death of
its object; but the witch Nuisancenika was not so easily appeased. She
visited the dying queen, made use of language which, always
objectionable in itself, was doubly improper, when used at such a
moment, and solemnly doomed the baby child to ugliness and deformity.
This pretty well finished the poor mother of itself, and she actually
died outright, when, within ten minutes of the cruel doom having been
pronounced, a palpable hump appeared upon the infant's back, and her
features assumed an expression of ugliness seldom seen in the females
of that country. So the child had grown up, deformed and ugly, though
with a sweetness of disposition which atoned for both defects in the
eyes of those who knew her well. This scarcely applied to Fridolin, who
cared little for his children, although he occasionally had the pretty
ones down to dessert to show off to his friends, whilst poor Belinda
was left alone and neglected in the nursery.

Under these painful circumstances it was singular that Belinda should
not have grown up as deformed in mind as body, and this might very
possibly have been the case but for the unwearied love and devotion of
her foster-mother. This estimable person was the wife of one of the
king's shepherds, and no mother could have watched over her own child
more constantly or more tenderly than she tended Belinda. Being
moreover of a remarkably even temper, and blessed with a kindly
disposition withal, the good woman doubtless did much towards the
development of that remarkable sweetness of character, which the
princess had inherited from her mother. Be this how it may, she
certainly grew up in such a manner as to cause the remark to be
frequently made that her mind evinced a marked and singular contrast to
her body, and she was generally beloved in the royal household. This,
then, was the daughter whose destiny King Fridolin had resolved to
determine by the chances of a pig-race, and the fact was duly notified
to those concerned, and advertised in the newspapers throughout the
whole length and breadth of the country.

Although, as I have said, the circumstances of that country prevented
people from commenting too freely upon any proceeding of the king's,
yet nothing could prevent this matter being talked about in private
circles, and wherever the conversation could be safely carried on great
surprise was expressed at the course which Fridolin had thought fit to
take. It was argued with some reason that the king, had he so chosen,
might have ordered any of his subjects to marry Belinda, should no
suitable admirer have appeared from among any of the neighbouring
princes, and that, if he deemed it necessary that the princess should
be married at all, he might in this manner have at least secured for
her a husband more eligible than might now fall to her lot. Besides,
the class of people who would be likely to contend for the prize in a
pig-race would be of a varied character. It was undoubtedly true that
many of the highest nobility of the land were breeders of pigs, but it
was equally certain that there were a far greater number of small
farmers and even labourers who could also claim to be included in the
same category.

Moreover, it was more than probable that the more aristocratic and
refined was a pig-breeder, the less likely would it be that one of his
own sons would ride in the race, and it was to the rider and not to the
owner of the animal that the prize was to be given. So far, indeed, the
king seemed to have been kind and considerate, for this plan would
secure to his little daughter a husband better suited to her tender age
than if she had been bestowed upon some pig-owner of advanced years, to
whom she would have made a most unsuitable wife. But the king's
intention was plainly declared; whoever won the pig-race would win
Belinda too, and although a few years might be permitted to pass, so
that her education might be completed and the age of the bridegroom be
allowed to ripen, yet at the end of that time, which the king would fix
according to circumstances, the nuptials would certainly be celebrated.

As I have already said, everyone in the kingdom knew the conditions
before the day arrived, and many and various were the speculations as
to the result.

At last the sun shone upon the eventful morning of the day which was to
decide the issue of the race and the fate of Belinda. From every
quarter people came hurrying into the town; carts, carriages and
vehicles of every description and size thronged the roads, which were
also crowded with foot-passengers, all dressed in holiday garments, and
pushing forward in one direction, namely, to the race-course. There the
crowd was enormous, and the grand-stand was filled with a distinguished
company, as well as by many of those individuals who are only
distinguished by their extraordinary capacity for getting money out of
other people's pockets.

In a private stand which was appropriated to royalty, sat Fridolin and
his daughters, surrounded by the nobles of the court. The king was in
the highest spirits, chaffing old Pompous, flirting with the maids of
honour, and teasing his two eldest daughters by telling them that if
the affair went off to his satisfaction, he should probably have
another on _their_ account before long. The two princesses tossed
their heads haughtily at this, although they stood too much in awe of
their royal parent to make any open protest. They were both dressed in
the extreme of the fashion, and displayed in their features the beauty
for which their race had always been celebrated. At a little distance
sat poor Belinda, who had been ordered by her father to be present, but
who did not seem much to enjoy it, although she endeavoured to preserve
a cheerful demeanour. The child was simply dressed in white muslin,
and her dress was in no way calculated to remove the disagreeable
impression produced by her ugliness and bodily defect. As her sisters
were known to be the king's favourites, it was naturally around them
that the courtiers clustered, and Belinda sat neglected, and almost
alone, though some of the more kindly disposed and tender-hearted of
the court ladies paid her a little attention.

There was the usual shouting and betting, card-playing and band-playing,
pick-pocketing and cheating, wrangling and chaffing, which accompany a
race-course, I am told, even down to the present day; and there was a
dog, which issued no one knew where from, and ran down the very centre
of the course, howled at by the crowd and vainly chased by the
policemen, just before the race began. Carriages of all sorts were
drawn up by the side of the course, several rows deep, and the
occupants of many of them appeared to have come there principally for
the purpose of eating and drinking, for there was a vast and continuous
popping of corks, carving of chickens and mixing of salads, apparently
much enjoyed by those who were no more immediately concerned in the
consumption of the same, and as greatly envied by many hungry
lookers-on, who passed and repassed the carriages with eager and
longing eyes.

At last the bell for saddling rung, and after a while the course was
cleared, and the animals which had been entered for the race came out
of the adjoining paddock for their preliminary gallop. There were
eighteen who actually started, of whom nine were black pigs and nine
sandy coloured. The symmetry of their forms was generally admired, and
as they cocked their little ears, twitched their tails, and grunted
loudly in anticipation of the struggle, great was the interest and
intense the excitement of the spectators. The little jockeys, clad in
their jackets of different colours, sat gallantly on their steeds, and
although the galloping was of a somewhat curious and uncertain
character, no accident occurred, and the eighteen competitors were duly
marshalled at the starting post. Then began the difficulty. It seemed
as if no power on earth could induce the animals to range themselves as
required or to keep any order at all. They grunted, squealed, turned
round the wrong way, and exhibited altogether such restlessness and
queer temper, that a fair start really seemed to be an impossibility.
This went on for nearly half-an-hour, when suddenly the starter
effected his purpose--the flag fell--and a hushed whisper of "They're
off!" ran through the crowd from one end to another. The excitement was
tremendous. Luncheons were abandoned--champagne glasses put down when
in the very act of being lifted to thirsty lips--opera-glasses and
telescopes were everywhere in requisition, and no one in all that vast
assembly had for the moment eyes or ears for anything but the pig-race.
Those who were in the secret knew that seven of the animals which were
running belonged to members of the aristocracy, whilst no less than
eleven were owned by breeders and jobbers of an inferior class. Among
these knowing ones there was great speculation as to the class from
which the winner would come, also as to the colour, black or sandy,
which would be successful. There was no limit as to the sex of the
animals, and the only stipulation was that each competitor should be
two years old, it being considered in that country injurious to the
constitution of pigs that they should be allowed to run in races before
that age.

It would take too long to describe the dresses of all the jockeys or to
give the names of the animals which they respectively bestrode. If any
of my readers desire to know more than I tell, the matter can be easily
arranged, for the daily journals of that country inserted the fullest
particulars, and were doubtless filed by many racing-men of the time,
so that reference can be made to them by the curious inquirer. It is
sufficient for me to chronicle the fact that cards were everywhere sold
upon the day of the race, which contained the names, weights and
colours of the riders, and from these every information could be
gleaned. The names of the favourite pigs were Lubin, Toby,
Trough-lover, Wallower and Hogwash, and it was thought by those who
had, or who assumed to have, most knowledge of such matters, that none
of the other competitors had much chance. How far the event realised
these expectations will be presently seen. For the first few seconds
after the start there was a breathless silence, whilst all eyes were
eagerly fixed upon the advancing animals. Two or three could hardly be
said to have earned that epithet, for they only advanced a few yards
before they stopped, set their fore feet firmly in the ground and stood
there squealing loudly and defying every effort of their riders to urge
them forward. Another presently turned sharply aside and charged into
the crowd of bystanders, grunting fiercely, and as he was a large hog
of savage aspect and mighty bristles, the people scattered right and
left and he disappeared from the course. But the other pigs pushed on
for a while, until some six or seven appeared to have decidedly
outstripped the others and to be those from whom the winner would
undoubtedly be taken. The "knowing ones" seemed to be pretty right, for
all the five animals whose names I have given were among those who led.

Trough-lover, a rough built, sandy-coloured pig, with a rider in a
violet jacket with white sleeves, came on with a long steady gallop
which augured well for his chance; the scarlet jacket of the boy who
rode Toby, also a sandy pig, showed well to the front, and Wallower's
dark and bony frame, bestridden by a jockey in pink and white was also
well up. But the principal interest of the race was concentrated upon
Hogwash and Lubin, who were running neck and neck together in the
foremost place, whilst the three already named, with a couple of
"outsiders" were several yards behind. The two favourites were both
black pigs; Lubin, a remarkably well-shaped animal, whose jockey showed
dark blue colours, whilst Hogwash was a beast of huge dimensions,
ridden by a boy of complexion almost as dark as his own, whose jacket
of lilac had been conspicuous in the front rank from the first moment
of the start. They ran on in the order which I have mentioned, after
they had shaken off the "ruck" of pigs, until within about a couple of
hundred yards from home, when Lubin gradually came back to his pigs,
and Hogwash forged slowly but surely ahead. The shouting on all sides
was tremendous, and the excitement of the spectators was at its height,
when at about a hundred yards from the winning post the position of the
leading pigs appeared unaltered, save that Toby seemed to have somewhat
gained on the others in the second rank, and Trough-lover was coming
along by the rails with a stealthy, steady gallop, which made the
backers of Hogwash tremble in their shoes. So it was until within fifty
yards from the finish, when a totally unexpected incident suddenly
changed the aspect of affairs. Out from the second rank darted a pig of
a sandy colour, and with a squeal hardly to be expected from an animal
which had gone nearly half a mile at best pace, shot forward from the
others and rapidly gained upon the leading pig. The shouts from the
crowd now rent the skies, and as the sandy pig closed up with Hogwash,
the rider of the latter was observed to be using his whip freely,
whilst his rival, a boy of light hair and complexion, displaying a
cherry-coloured jacket and black cap, sat firmly but quietly in his
saddle, to all appearance neither using nor requiring whip or spur. At
twenty yards from home he collared Hogwash, at ten yards they were neck
and neck, racing for dear life, and when, amid the most maddening scene
of excitement the sandy-coloured pig galloped past the winning post
nearly a length ahead, the shout that went up from the crowd was
something appalling in its vehemence. There was no doubt about it.
Hogwash was beaten and so were all the favourites, and an outsider had
won. Who was it? The faces of the book-makers fell, and people looked
eagerly to see what number went up, for no one had an idea of what was
the name of the winner, except those who were sufficiently calm to
consult their cards, and ascertain what pig it was that the "cherry and
black" jockey had ridden. It was soon known, Number 17 had won, and
Number 17 was "Sandy Sue," the property of Giles Dickson, a small
farmer very little known among the great pig-breeders of the kingdom.

Before I go further, I may as well explain the clever manner in which
this great race was actually won, which was thought to reflect
considerable credit upon those who had contrived it. Farmer Dickson,
though not in a large way of business, had plenty of brains, and it has
been remarked by men of undoubted sagacity that there are two classes
of men into which the world may be divided, namely those who have
brains and no money, and those who have money and no brains, the latter
being created principally for the benefit of the former. Now Farmer
Dickson belonged emphatically to the former class, and as soon as ever
the race was announced and the course fixed, he conceived a project
which he immediately carried into execution.

At the end of the course, and not above a hundred yards or so
therefrom, was a fence, beyond which was situated a small farm, the
homestead of which was thus very near the winning post, or at least not
above three or four hundred yards distant. Being well acquainted with
the tenant of this farm, the sagacious farmer made known his plan to
him and they agreed to carry it out together. "Sandy Sue," as the large
sow was called upon whom Farmer Dickson had resolved to set his hopes
and stake his money, had not long since presented her owner with a fine
litter of pigs. These were all removed forthwith to the farm near the
racecourse, and their mother was also comfortably housed in the
farmyard. Day by day she took her gentle exercise, and day by day was
she well fed at a spot as near to the racecourse as could be managed.
More than this, her favourite food was always given to her about the
time at which the race had been fixed to come off, and to this
precaution the strictest attention was given. The consequence was
exactly that which the confederates had expected.

Although her condition was probably not quite so good as that of some
of the pigs with whom she had to contend, it was sufficiently so to
enable her to run her best for a course so short as half a mile. Then,
when she came near to the finish, recollections of feeding time not
only crowded upon her, but she had directly before her the very spot
where her daily food was served out to her, and where she was
accustomed to receive the visits of her beloved children. Stimulated to
renewed exertions by these facts, she did exactly that which was
expected from her, and forgetting every other consideration, made such
a splendid "spirt" as to carry her triumphantly to the victory in the
manner which I have described. These things all came out afterwards,
but they did not affect the decision of those who had to judge upon the
race, and "Sandy Sue" was without objection or protest hailed as the
winner.

As soon as her jockey had dismounted and been duly weighed, he was
summoned to the presence of the king, who was not unnaturally desirous
to behold his future son-in-law. The boy accordingly mounted the stairs
which led to the royal stand, and was forthwith ushered into the
presence of his sovereign. As soon as he appeared, Fridolin advanced a
few steps to meet him, and then stood still and regarded him with a
curious eye.

He was, as I have said, a boy of light complexion, with light brown
hair and light blue eyes, and by no means of an unprepossessing
appearance, especially in his jockey dress. He stood bashfully before
the king, with blushing cheeks and eyes cast down, until, after a few
moments of silence, Fridolin addressed him.

"Well, boy," he said, "thou hast won the race and hast gained the
prize. Of what house and lineage dost thou come?"

"Please, sir, my lord, your kingship's majesty," said the boy in
trembling accents, entirely mistaking the question, "our house bean't
but a small one, and as for linen, mother does the washing and I don't
know nothing about it."

At this reply the king burst into a fit of laughter, in which his
courtiers joined, although some of them felt a sensation of regret
within their hearts when they considered the illiterate ignorance of
the youth to whom the Princess Belinda was to be sacrificed. This
reflection apparently did not trouble the king greatly, for he
presently remarked, "the bridegroom must be introduced to his bride
without delay. Come hither, boy," and with these words advanced towards
the spot where Belinda was sitting. The poor child, understanding but
too well what had happened and what was about to follow, trembled with
visible emotion as they came near, and would gladly have made her
escape. But Fridolin did not intend that this should be the case by any
means. He called to her as she rose from her seat and bade her be ready
to receive the winner of the race and her future husband. Meekly and
humbly she obeyed, taking her seat again, and fixing her eyes modestly
upon the floor.

"There," cried the king as he pushed the boy forward towards the
princess, "there is the youth who will one day be your husband, child.
Kiss her, boy, and make friends at once."

A deep blush suffused the face of the shrinking Belinda, who had not as
yet even looked upon the other's countenance, and she trembled more
than ever. But with a grace which no one had expected from the quarter
from which it came, the boy, immediately on receiving the king's
commands, stepped forward towards Belinda's chair, and, kneeling on one
knee, raised her hand gently to his lips.

"Bravo, boy!" cried the king with another laugh. "I vow you're half a
courtier already. Two or three years' training and you'll be perfect."

He then proceeded to inquire more particularly about the youth's age
and condition, and found that he was called Zachariah Dickson, or
usually "Zac" for shortness, that Farmer Dickson had several other sons
and daughters, but that this boy, being just under the limit of age,
had been selected as the rider of "Sandy Sue." He learned, moreover,
that the education of the Dickson family had been somewhat neglected,
and that though Master Zac could certainly read and write, he was no
great proficient at either accomplishment. Altogether it appeared that
the pig-race had secured for Belinda a husband so very much beneath her
in rank, position, breeding and education that her future happiness
could hardly be said to be very certain.

As, however, Fridolin had made the arrangement without any reference to
its probable effect upon his daughter's happiness, but entirely to
gratify his own whim, he was not greatly concerned with this
reflection. He told the youth, indeed, that he had something to learn,
before he could be really fit to be a king's son-in-law, but as in that
country a king's word was always sacred, and as good as his bond, he
never for one moment entertained the idea of trying to be off the
bargain.

No: "Zac" Dickson should be Belinda's husband, come what might. "He had
won her and he alone should wear her." So said the king again and
again, at the same time avowing his determination that the boy should
be forthwith sent at the royal expense to one of the best colleges in
the country, in order that he might pursue his studies, and prepare
himself to discharge the duties of that lofty position to which he had
been called by the voice of Fate. This announcement was received with
respectful submission by the boy, and with unfeigned satisfaction by
old Dickson, who, besides having won a considerable sum of money on the
race, now saw the prospect of having one of his boys entirely taken off
his hands and better educated than he could possibly have been without
such aid.

The king further declared that three years should elapse before the
wedding, but that then, when the bridegroom was seventeen and the bride
thirteen, the marriage should certainly be celebrated, youthful
marriages being always the fashion in that country. After the interview
on the royal Stand, the winner of the race was allowed to return home
for the night, but with orders that he was to take up his abode at the
palace upon the following day. Then the king ordered his carriages and
the royal party left the course. The crowd was already broken up, and
people were streaming in every direction over the common upon which the
sport had taken place.

The common was ere long left desolate and alone, only tenanted by a
grazing donkey or two, and a few wretched human creatures who wandered
over every spot upon which carriages had stood and luncheons had been
eaten, in the hope of finding something which they might convert into
money in order to aid the necessities of their miserable lives. Soon,
too, these took their departure: the crowd of people returning home
grew smaller and smaller, gradually the road was less and less
thronged, the people were only seen going along it by twos and threes,
then at last these, too, had found their way home, silence reigned
where all had so lately been talk and mirth, noise and revelry, and
night came down upon the earth with her sable cloak, extinguishing the
last flickering rays of the sun which had so gaily and brightly shone
upon the day of the great pig-race.

The Princess Belinda woke next morning with a load upon her young
heart, and a novel sense of responsibility which made her feel quite a
different being from the child of the day before. She was, indeed, no
ordinary child. Even in her appearance _that_ could hardly be said
of her, poor girl! for she was not so much ordinary as decidedly ugly,
but the epithet was even less applicable to her intellectual powers,
which were undeniably of a superior order. Having moreover been
debarred by her deformity from the more active pastimes of childhood,
she had from a very early period sought her pleasure in books, and was,
even at the early age of ten, far better acquainted with the literature
of the day than many young ladies of twice her age. Well informed,
however, as she was, and fortified as she might be against the storms
of the outside world, as much as the fortifications of a prudent heart
and well-regulated temper can avail against such adversities, she
nevertheless awoke, as I have already said, to a new feeling upon the
morning after the pig-race. Her childhood seemed to be over, and the
real cares of life to have commenced. She had no longer only her own
life to regard, the life of another was thenceforth inseparably bound
up with her own. The actual marriage, indeed, was to be deferred for
three years, but the boy who had been presented to her as her future
husband was practically, for the future, a part and parcel of her life,
and his doings must be always of great and paramount interest and
importance to her. To tell the truth, he had made a very favourable
impression upon the heart of the youthful princess.

Unaccustomed to go much into that society of which her more fortunate
sisters were at once the ornaments and the delights, Belinda was less
struck than might otherwise have been the case by the somewhat rough
and countrified bearing of the boy, and indeed, as has been already
said, his action in kneeling before her on his first introduction had
been far from ungraceful. She had remarked with pleasure the honest
gaze of his blue eyes, and the healthy clearness of his fair
complexion, whilst no one could deny that his form was well-shaped, and
his figure lithe and active. Still, the age of ten is one at which it
is somewhat early to be engaged to be married, and it is scarcely to be
considered a matter of wonder that the little princess regarded her
prospects with some apprehension.

The youthful Zac was brought to the palace next day, according to the
king's orders, and forthwith took up his residence in the royal abode.
It was a curious arrangement, and one that was made the subject of much
comment by the court, although it was allowed on every hand that, since
the king had determined upon bestowing the hand of his youngest
daughter upon the winner of the pig-race, there was much good sense, as
well as kindness, in his resolution to have that winner properly
educated. It must be owned, too, that the lad did no discredit to his
teachers. He was diligent, attentive, and showed no small capacity for
learning. Whatever there had been of vulgarity in his accent rapidly
disappeared, uncouth and ignorant language was banished from his
hearing, and consequently very soon from his speech, while his errors
of grammar speedily became things of the past. In short, it was
confessed even by those who had at first shaken their heads with a
gravity befitting the occasion, and had declared that the old proverb
"you cannot make a silk purse out of a sow's ear" would be verified in
this case, and that a person of humble birth could by no means be
converted into a gentleman; even these persons, I say, began to take a
different tone, to talk about another proverb, namely that "exceptions
prove the rule," and to express their feelings towards Belinda's future
husband in no unfavourable terms.

He made such progress in his books that his tutors were quite
astonished, and Belinda was herself delighted. Once a week he was
allowed to visit her for an hour, and from time to time she found a
perceptible difference in his manners and conversation, and a decided
improvement in both. In this manner a whole year passed over the heads
of the people of whom we are speaking, and during that time no event
occurred of a character so specially interesting as to require a
separate allusion. People were born, married and died as usual. Whilst
they lived they ate, drank, and paid their taxes--three things common
to all mankind who happen to be resident in civilized countries--and
after they were dead they were comfortably buried by their relations,
who then went home and remembered them as long as people usually do,
and no longer. The world, in short, went steadily on, and the inmates
of the palace did much the same as the rest of the world. Lord Pompous,
it is true, fell occasionally into disgrace, being rather a stupid man
and apt to offend the king when he most wanted to please him. But as he
always got out again very soon, this did not signify. Fridolin was
rather fond of the old man, if the truth must be told, and though he
enjoyed teasing him now and then, never really meant to get rid of him.
So they jogged on together happily enough, and nothing occurred to
seriously disturb either of them.

The king, however, felt time hang as heavy upon his hands as is the
case with most people who either have nothing to do, or are too idle to
do what they really _have_ to do in the shape of work. He often
looked back to that idea of a pig-race which had afforded him such a
good day's amusement, and once or twice hinted to his two elder
daughters that it had turned out remarkably well. The princesses,
however, viewed the matter in a different light, for they guessed at
once at their father's intentions, and had no notion of allowing them
to come to any practical issue. It was all very well for Belinda,
indeed: a third sister, with neither beauty nor wealth, might fairly be
disposed of in any way that happened to be most convenient. It was
entirely different, however, with girls who had beauty to recommend
them, and no lack of admirers to tell them so. Wherefore the fair
Amabilia and the sweet Concaterina promptly checked their father's most
distant allusion to the subject, and as they were the only people of
whom he stood at all in awe, he soon abandoned the idea, and gave up
all thoughts of having another pig-race.

After young Zac's first entrance into the palace, Fridolin had
concerned himself very little about the boy, being content, as many
people are, to let matters drift on as long as they gave no trouble to
himself. But it happened one day that he overheard some of the
courtiers speaking in praise of the lad, and this excited his curiosity
to a degree sufficient to induce him to desire that Zac should be
summoned to his presence. This occurred about the end of the first year
of Zac's residence in the palace, and was really the beginning to him
of another existence. For King Fridolin was so pleased with the
alteration in the youth, that he thought he should like to see more of
him. Having no son of his own, why should not the future husband of one
of his daughters be as a son to him? Thus the result of his great idea
might turn out altogether fortunate, and he should have conferred a
benefit upon himself as well as Belinda after all. He forthwith gave
directions that Zac should be present on all occasions when the king
appeared in public, or gave a reception to any of his subjects, and he
also desired that he should be frequently admitted to the royal
presence upon other occasions. The boy always conducted himself so well
that he gradually became a great favourite with the king, and not only
with the king but with the other princesses.

This occurrence was the reverse of fortunate, but perhaps it was not
unnatural. Amabilia was little more than a year older than Zac, and
Concaterina about his age. His good looks, his pleasant manner, the
unfailing sweetness of his temper, and the general intelligence which
he evinced, were all calculated to make an impression upon the tender
hearts of the two princesses. Surrounded by flatterers and sycophants,
the simple character and honest bearing of the youth had the additional
charm of novelty, and this was increased by the natural manner in
which, considering these as his future sisters, he accepted his
position and treated them frankly as such. Accordingly they both fell
deeply in love with him. It was very sad, and I am sorry to be obliged
to tell it, but it is no use concealing the truth, and there was and is
no mistake about the matter. The two sisters were not long in
discovering each other's secret, and as soon as they had made the
mutual discovery, a coldness sprang up between them which was most
distressing. I am bound to say that no thought of or for Belinda ever
crossed the mind of either of them. It was not that they disliked their
younger sister, or that they were habitually unkind to her, but they
had got into the way of considering her as a kind of inferior being,
whose thoughts, hopes, and wishes must never for a moment interfere
with their own, and who could on any occasion, and in any matter, be
pushed aside as best suited their convenience, so that it scarcely at
all, if ever, occurred to either of them that it was either wrong,
dishonourable, or unkind to rob Belinda of her promised husband, and if
it _had_ occurred to them, I am afraid that they had both been too
much accustomed to have their own way to have hesitated even under the
influence of such a thought. Nurtured as they had been in their
father's court, surrounded by people who had taught them to believe in
the divine right of kings to reign over their people, and the enormous
privilege which it was to be of royal blood, and the incomparable
superiority of beings such as they were over the common herd of
mortals, one would have thought it probable that their pride would have
prevented them from yielding to the soft influence of love in such a
case as that of the boy of humble birth with whom they had thus
accidentally been associated. But poets and writers of olden time have
always told us that Love is invincible, and I can only suppose that he
chose to give another instance of his prowess by conquering the hearts
of the two princesses, and forcing them to bow before his resistless
sway. At all events, to cut the matter short, they both fell in love
with Zac Dickson, so that his very name (though to me there seems
nothing at all savouring of melody about it) was music to their ears,
their eyes delighted to behold him, and their blushes would soon have
told the tale, if indeed their tender looks and affectionate manner had
not been such as to reveal to the youth the ill-concealed secret of
their young hearts.

Extraordinary though it be to relate, and difficult to believe, Zac was
considerably more annoyed than pleased by the discovery. Most boys of
fifteen would have been far from insensible to the attentions of
beautiful damsels even of their own rank and station, and few there are
who would not have been flattered--and perchance fluttered too--by the
palpable affection entertained towards them by lovely princesses.
Nevertheless, this was not at all the case with Zac. By some curious
freak of Nature, he had been constituted with an acute sense and
appreciation of the difference between right and wrong, and a steady
desire and determination to avoid the latter whenever he possibly
could. He remembered full well the manner in which he had obtained
access to the palace, and the terms upon which his admission had been
arranged, and the means provided for his education. Strange to say,
moreover, he had conceived a real regard and affection for Belinda. He
remembered her first reception of him as her future husband; he did not
forget the uniformly meek and modest nature which she displayed in her
weekly interviews with him; nor was he oblivious of the kindly interest
she had ever taken in his mental progress and development of those
qualities which go to make a man's life both useful and advantageous to
himself and others. He had perceived, too, in the youngest princess,
that sweetness of disposition for which she had ever been remarkable,
and had learned gradually to understand, and, as he understood, to love
her better.

If, at his first entrance upon the scene of our history as the winner
of the pig-race, he had been offered the choice of any one of the three
princesses, it is highly probable that he would never have looked upon
Belinda a second time. The beauty of the elder sisters was undeniably
great; their manners pleasant, though occasionally haughty; and they
were girls who would at once have captivated the susceptible heart of
any young man suddenly placed in Zac's position. But a year's residence
in the palace, and that under his peculiar circumstances and
engagements, had made all the difference. Bound in honour to Belinda,
he would as soon have thought of stealing the king's crown as of making
love to either of her sisters, nor could he believe for a long time
that they had any such intentions towards himself. This, however, only
served to make matters worse, because he took no pains to keep out of
their way, and was rather glad when any opportunity for meeting either
of them chanced to occur. Nay, when Amabilia pressed his hand tenderly,
he saw in it nothing more than the regard which Belinda's sister had a
right to entertain towards him, and when Concaterina, as they were
bending together over a photograph, put her arms softly round his neck,
and when their faces were almost touching, pressed her lips softly upon
his cheek, he even then deemed it but a proof of sisterly affection,
and at once returned the compliment, without a suspicion that anything
more was meant. His eyes, however, were opened at last, when the
attentions, looks, and words of the two elder princesses became
unmistakable, and their design of winning him from Belinda but too
apparent.

The boy was grieved beyond measure, for not only was he sharp enough to
know that his own position at court might be seriously imperilled by
what was before him, but he also felt that, through him, Belinda
herself might be made to suffer. Yet what was to be done? Deceit was
repugnant to his honest nature, and had it been otherwise, it could
scarcely have been long maintained, since not only one, but both
sisters were aiming at the same thing, and to deceive the two would
have been beyond human skill and subtlety. If he appeared to favour
either one, the other would probably be bitterly offended; if he seemed
to care for both, but to hesitate between the two, their mutual
jealousy would be stimulated, and, besides, if Belinda should hear of
it, as would be but too likely, her tender heart would be filled with
sorrow. On the other hand, if he spoke his mind out to the two
princesses, openly and boldly, they had only to agree together to
denounce him to the king, and his position would be most precarious,
whilst Belinda would be quite unable to assist him.

The matter caused the poor boy much anxious thought. At first, when he
became quite certain that he was not mistaken, he tried, by every means
in his power, to avoid Amabilia and Concaterina, and was never alone
with either of them if he could possibly help it. But very often he
couldn't help it, do what he would. He made his studies a constant
excuse for absence from luncheon, to which meal he had latterly been
invited, and at which the two elder princesses were always present,
although Belinda had her solitary meal in the school-room.

Sometimes the king was there, and then Zac dared not be away, since
Fridolin liked him to be present, and sent for him if he was not. But
his time of trial was "Five o'clock Tea."

The two sisters had a joint sitting-room, a very comfortable place,
with inviting arm-chairs, delightful sofas, all the new novels, and
every knick-knack you can imagine, arranged as only a lady's taste
_can_ arrange things, but so managed as to make the room wonderfully
attractive to the male who has the good fortune to be admitted to a
sight of its treasures. Their tea was always brought in on a silver
tray soon after five, and to this most enjoyable meal they frequently
invited such of the courtiers as they specially favoured. Zac had
constant invitations of a general character, but whenever one of the
sisters chanced to be absent from any cause whatever, the other was
sure to send specially to request his attendance. This was his time of
trial. The "request" of a princess in that royalty-loving country was
equivalent to a command, and it was entirely contrary to etiquette for
any one to refuse compliance, save on the score of ill-health, domestic
affliction, or some other equally valid excuse. Therefore it was very
difficult for Zac to refuse, though he knew only too well what awaited
him. Amabilia or Concaterina, whichever it happened to be--no matter
which--was certain to be alone, and always received him with such
overpowering affection as quite bewildered him. His only safety lay in
the fact that the two girls had become so jealous of each other, that
one never left the other alone at five o'clock tea if she could
possibly help it. Still, sometimes such an occurrence was unavoidable,
and if Amabilia was ever kept up-stairs by a bad cold, or Concaterina
had been detained elsewhere by some accidental circumstance, as sure as
fate, one of these special invitations came to Zac, and the poor boy
had to go and face the lovely princess as best he could.

So things went on for several months, well into the second year of the
youth's residence in the palace, until at last matters seemed coming to
a crisis. For the second time, Concaterina had indulged him with a
kiss, which he could hardly with politeness refrain from returning, and
the lovely Amabilia actually began the same game.

She secured him for a five o'clock tea, and whilst sitting by his side
on the sofa, and talking in her usually affectionate manner, she
suddenly laid her fair head upon his shoulder for an instant, and the
next moment as suddenly raising it, exclaimed in an energetic and
emphatic tone: "_Dear_ Zac!" and imprinted at the same instant a warm
and loving kiss upon his young lips.

Poor Zac was terribly perplexed, but more in thought than in action,
for of course he could do no less than promptly return the compliment
just paid him by the princess. But when she took his hand in hers,
pressed it warmly, and regarded him with loving eyes, with her face
still closer to his than any face but Belinda's should have been, he
felt that this was really carrying things too far, and that he must
somehow or other put an end to it. How he would have done so it is
impossible to say, inasmuch as the princess, evidently of a different
opinion, appeared desirous of prolonging the situation, and his
difficulty in preventing her from doing so would probably have been
considerable.

Fortunately--or unfortunately, as the taste of my readers may lead them
to determine--the door suddenly flew open, and the princess had barely
time to spring to the other end of the sofa when the portly figure of
Lord Pompous entered the apartment. As Lord Chamberlain, Old Pompous
had the general right of entry everywhere, although he rarely ventured
to approach the sitting-room of the princesses without special
invitation, and probably would not have done so upon the present
occasion had he not been sent directly by the king. I do not think that
Amabilia ever quite forgave the old man for his unwelcome intrusion;
but he really was not to blame in the matter. King Fridolin had got
into a difficulty about some curtains which he had recently ordered for
his study, and which, when they came home, he fancied were of colours
which did not match; those destined for one window being of a different
hue to those which belonged to another. Having referred the matter to
Lord Pompous, that worthy ventured to be of an opinion contrary to that
of his sovereign, and held that the curtains matched perfectly. Upon
this Fridolin first threw a footstool at the head of his lord
chamberlain--on dodging which he tumbled over the waste-paper basket
into the coal-scuttle, and spoiled a new white waistcoat--and then
directed him, since he was such a blind old fool as to be unable to
tell one colour from another, to go immediately to Amabilia's room and
ask her to come there and decide the knotty point. Accordingly, the
submissive Pompous hurried off to obey the orders of the king, and
arrived at the particularly opportune or inopportune moment which I
have described.

As far as Zac was concerned, the intrusion appeared to him to be little
less than providential. The princess could do nothing else than obey,
and as it would not have been etiquette for her either to have invited
him to accompany her, or told him to await her return, she had no
alternative but to dismiss him from the apartment. This she did with a
loving look, which certainly could not be misunderstood by its object,
and could hardly have escaped the observation of any bystander less
blind and stupid than Lord Pompous.

The princess then sought the presence of her father, and Zac, having
deeply cogitated upon the whole matter, after his return to his own
room, made up his mind that, unless he was to run away--a proceeding
which would be difficult, uncomfortable, ruinous to his future
interests, and very disagreeable to others beside himself--the only
alternative he had was to open his whole heart to Belinda upon the very
first opportunity.

Having quite resolved upon this he felt somewhat more happy, for that
which had really troubled him most was the apprehension that the young
princess might discover something of the truth, and not knowing from
himself how matters really stood, might imbibe some false impression
concerning the matter, and blame him for having employed unnecessary
and unjustifiable concealment in a business so intimately concerning
her interests and future happiness. He had not long to wait for the
opportunity he desired. At their very next interview he was able to
open his heart to Belinda upon the subject, and to tell her all the
awkwardness of his position as regarded the king, herself, and her two
sisters.

At first the poor child wept bitterly, and was quite unable either to
control or to conceal her feelings. She had never expected, for she had
never received, great kindness from her elder sisters, but she had
thought herself quite safe from molestation with regard to her future
husband. Amabilia and Concaterina had so scoffed at the idea of the
pig-race when the project was first started, they had laughed so
heartily at the ridiculous notion of the hand of a king's daughter
being given as the reward of a successful jockey, and they had tossed
their heads so high at the idea of a common farmer's son being received
and accepted as the future husband of _their_ sister, that it had never
entered the poor child's head that there was the slightest chance of
either of them ever desiring to obtain his affection. Yet such was the
case. She was attacked upon the very side upon which she had felt
herself most secure, and her surprise was only equalled by her
distress. One consolation, however, she certainly had, than which none
could well be greater. The fidelity of Zac was a comfort which was
beyond all price, as it was also beyond all praise. When she was fully
assured of this--and indeed she was too young and too honest to have
ever doubted it--she felt almost glad that the occasion to prove it had
arisen. In warm but simple language she expressed at once her gratitude
and her affection for the youth, who, on his part, declared his firm
adherence to the troth he had plighted, and in homely words vowed that
he would never be false to his Belinda.

But this mutual interchange of confidence and regard rendered the
present position of affairs by no means less dangerous and
uncomfortable. Zac offered to go to the king if Belinda desired it, but
to this there was a double objection. In the first place, Fridolin
would probably be slow to believe anything to the disadvantage of his
favourite daughters, and an appeal to him, certain to lead to an entire
denial on the part of the princesses, would not improbably recoil upon
the heads of both Belinda and her promised husband. Then, in the second
place, Zac had a strong and conscientious objection to betraying a
lady's secret, and had only done so in the present case because Belinda
was his affianced wife, and he felt himself bound in honour to tell her
how matters stood between her sisters and himself.

They decided, therefore, that they certainly would not say anything to
the king upon the subject. There was no one else to whom they could
appeal, for Amabilia and Concaterina were omnipotent in the palace, and
it would have been hopeless to speak to old Pompous or any of the
courtiers. All that Belinda could think of was to tell her old
foster-mother, who was allowed to see her twice a month, and who was so
utterly devoted to her, that if the worst came to the worst, and the
poor child had to leave the palace, she knew she could find a refuge in
that humble cottage as long as the old woman was allowed to live there.
So, after much difficulty, she obtained Zac's permission to confide to
her the whole matter, and to ask her counsel regarding it.

The youth left his betrothed with a heavy heart, but rejoiced withal at
the thought that, at all events, she knew the truth, and would place in
him the trust which he so well deserved.

The cottage of Belinda's foster-mother was not far from the palace, and
close to a forest of considerable size, between which and the river
which flowed through the fertile plain upon one side of it, were the
king's pastures upon which grazed his numerous flocks and herds. As has
been already stated, the good old foster-mother was the wife of one of
the shepherds whose duty it was to tend the king's flocks. He was now
somewhat advanced in years, and so was his wife; but they were a hale
and hearty couple, and still performed their duties with diligence and
fidelity. According to her resolution, Belinda confided to her
foster-mother at the very next interview the whole circumstances of her
painful position. The worthy woman was much disturbed at hearing this
news. No one was better informed than she was of the state of affairs
at the palace. She knew that the word of either Amabilia or Concaterina
was law, whilst her nursling had no influence whatever. If, then, the
two sisters could agree between themselves as to which of them should
appropriate Zac, there seemed but small hope that Belinda would be
permitted to retain her lover. True, he might have a word to say upon
the subject himself, and would possibly--nay, probably, according to
Belinda--be firm and true, but how far that would avail against the
will of those with whom he would have to deal, was a very doubtful
matter. So when she had heard her child's story, the old woman
comforted and petted her at first by condoling with her on the badness
of the prospect before her, and the impossibility of its ever being any
better. Having thus made both her nursling and herself as miserable as
she could, and having cried together a good deal more than the urgency
of the case required, they began to think whether anything else could
be done, and for some time no thought entered either head of which any
use could be made. This interview took place in the palace, and the
good old woman said that she never _could_ think in such a grand place
as that, but that if Belinda could manage to come and see her one of
those days at her own cottage, they would be able to talk the matter
over quietly together, and perhaps something might turn up. To this
Belinda consented, and the old woman took her departure.

For the next few days things went on much the same, the two elder
princesses doing all in their power to attract the affection of Zac,
and the honest lad striving to avoid them as much as he possibly could
do without actual incivility. One day, however, things really came to a
crisis. Zac had finished his work earlier than usual, and went into the
palace garden to enjoy the fresh air. He took a book with him, and
finding a pleasant seat in a little summer-house, which had been built
near a natural waterfall which formed one of the beauties of the place,
he sat himself thereupon, and began to read.

It was a lovely spot, and the moment was one which occasionally comes
to everybody in the warm summer-time, when the sound of falling water,
the rays of the sun just piercing through a thick leafy screen, the low
singing of the birds and the humming of the insects, all induce a kind
of dreamy happiness which gradually steals over the spirit, and not
seldom ends in the forgetfulness of sleep. So it was with Zac. He read
a page or two with avidity--for his book was interesting--then another
page or two rather less eagerly, then more slowly and lazily still;
then he ceased to turn over the pages at all, and finally the book
slipped from his hands to his knees, and from his knees to the ground,
his eyes closed, and he fell into a sweet, dreamless sleep.

Now, as luck would have it, the lovely Concaterina had observed the
youth saunter into the garden, as she was watering the mignonette
which grew in a box placed upon her window-sill. The opportunity for a
_tête-à-tête_ seemed too good to be lost, and she therefore shortly
afterwards descended in pursuit of him, having previously made sure
that her beloved elder sister was practising music in their joint
sitting-room. The princess did not find the boy directly, as she
fancied he had gone further into the shrubberies than was really the
case, so that by the time she came upon him in the summer-house he was
stretched at full length upon the seat and sleeping as I have
described.

She gazed upon him for some few seconds in a transport of maidenly
affection--so young and so handsome did he seem in her eyes, with his
head leaning upon one of his arms which he had carelessly thrown behind
it as he sank to sleep. Should she awaken him? and how? She did not
take long to decide. In that country there was a proverbial saying--and
I believe it is not confined to that country--that if a gentleman finds
a lady asleep he has a right to take a kiss by way of legitimate booty.
Concaterina had no idea that such a privilege could be properly or
fairly confined to one sex, and she therefore leaned gently over the
slumbering Zac, and without more ado kissed him tenderly on the cheek.

The boy started from his sleep, and blushed deeply at having been thus
awakened and saluted. He stammered forth some apologies for having been
found as he was, but these were soon stopped by Concaterina, who
addressed him in the most affectionate terms, and, sitting down by his
side, asked him whether he quite hated her.

To this the youth could make but one reply, namely, that it was not for
him to hate his king's daughter, and that even were she not so, she and
her sister had been too kind to him to make it possible for him to
entertain any such feeling towards either of them.

At the mention of her sister the fair one pouted prettily, and
continued to talk to him in terms of endearment.

"Dearest Zac," she said, "if you do not hate me cannot you love me a
little? I am so fond of _you_--so _very_ fond."

Zac did not know how to answer.

"I _do_ love you," at length he said, "as the Princess Belinda's
sister, and therefore one who will some day be _my_ sister too!"

"Ah!" sighed Concaterina, "but I want more than that, you dear boy.
Belinda, indeed! you are much too good for _her_, poor ill-favoured,
child! How happy we could be together, Zac. You don't think me ugly, do
you?"

Zac certainly did _not_, and therefore could not say so, but when the
princess went on in the same way, and tried to persuade him to let her
usurp the place in his affections which belonged to Belinda, he could
only reply that he knew she could not _really_ mean it, and begged her
not to play tricks upon him in that manner.

"Ah, Zac," she returned, "they are no tricks; I never before saw anyone
whom I could really love, and I do love you, Zac, so _very_ much!" and
as she spoke she passed her arm again round the perplexed boy's neck in
a loving manner.

What step she would next have taken I am unable to say, for at that
moment who should enter the summer-house but the Princess Amabilia.

"Pretty conduct this, indeed!" she cried, when she saw the position of
affairs. "Concaterina! I wonder you are not ashamed of yourself,
teasing that poor boy with your affection when you know he wants none
of it!"

The younger sister had by this time withdrawn the offending arm and
turned sharply upon the intruder.

"How tiresome you are, Amabilia," she said pettishly; "always
interfering. Zac and I understand each other quite well, and don't want
you here at all. Do go away!"

"Hoity-toity!" rejoined the other. "_I_ go away, forsooth, that would
be very reasonable, when we both know that dear Zac loves me fifty
times better than he does you. Impudence!"

At this Concaterina fired up.

"He does no such thing!" she cried angrily; "he and I are now nearly of
an age, and if you were a real good sister you would be glad to see how
fond he is of me, instead of trying to take him away, you spiteful
thing."

Amabilia replied with equal warmth, and poor Zac's position became one
of extreme discomfort, both princesses claiming him as their own, when
he in reality neither belonged nor wished to belong to either.

Presently, however, they brought their animated discussion to a close
by appealing to Zac himself. Amabilia ingenuously declared that as she
was eldest she ought to have the first choice, and that since matters
had come to this pass, she would not be ashamed of telling Zac to his
face that she loved him dearly, and was prepared to accept him for her
husband. To this she added that in most courts such a hint as she had
given would be considered equivalent to a command, and that she was
thankful to say and feel that, as in their case there was love on both
sides, a command would be quite superfluous.

Concaterina then put in her claim. She said that in matters of love it
was not a question of being eldest or youngest, the heart must follow
its own promptings. She loved Zac--oh, so dearly! and she felt that he
returned her love, only diffidence forbade him to confess it. But if he
would be hers, she was certain her sister would soon find another mate,
and that the king, her father, would make no objection. Thus accosted
by two young and beautiful princesses, poor Zac would have had a most
difficult task to decide between them, had it not been that the path of
duty lay straight before him, and he had all along resolved to follow
it.

"Dear ladies!" he said, addressing them both, and bowing respectfully
to one and the other, "I thought you were but playing with me, and I
would fain hope so still. If not--what reply can I make to you? I love
you both--each has been so kind to me since I first entered the palace,
that I should be worse than a brute if I did not love you both. But I
came here as the promised husband of your sister Belinda. My troth is
plighted to her. She believes in and trusts me. How can I break my word
and her heart? Dear princesses, you are so beautiful that you can
command love whenever and wherever you wish it. It is not so with poor
Belinda. She has but me, and I have vowed to be faithful to her!"

Whilst Zac was speaking thus, his eyes fired with animation, and his
face beaming with excitement, the princesses thought they had never
seen him look so handsome. But when his words showed them that their
efforts to wean his heart from their younger sister had been
unsuccessful, rage gradually took possession of their souls.

"You despise our love!" they both cried out at once. "You, a mere
peasant boy, who was only taken into the palace out of charity, you
_dare_ to say that you despise our beauty and ourselves, and take
up with that little lump of deformity, Belinda! How can you be such a
fool?"

Poor Zac protested that he was far from despising either of them, and
admired their beauty greatly, as indeed anyone with eyes must do. This,
however, was far from satisfying the enraged damsels. They insisted
upon it that the youth had encouraged them both, and the only dispute
between them now was as to which of them had been worse treated by him.
They told him, moreover, that his pretended fidelity to Belinda should
not bring happiness either to him or her. They would plague her life
out, for the matter of that. Ugly little toad! why should she have a
husband at all? And as for him--he should be punished handsomely for
this, and that, too, perhaps, sooner than he thought.

They then left the summer-house, and, I am sorry to say, allowed their
anger to carry them far beyond what could in any way be justified. They
agreed to go to their father that very afternoon, and tell him that Zac
had been very impertinent to both of them, and that Amabilia had
surprized him trying to kiss Concaterina against her will in the
summer-house. This they accordingly did, and the effects were much what
they had expected.

The king flew into a violent passion, threw both his boots with an
unerring aim at the head of Lord Pompous, and vowed that the world must
certainly be coming to an end. When the courtiers had all agreed to
this as a novel but most reasonable remark, he called them a parcel of
fools for thinking such a thing at all probable, and ordered Zac to be
immediately arrested. When told of what he was accused, the poor boy
was almost beside himself with grief. He was sorry enough for the
trouble he was in, and for that which might fall upon Belinda in
consequence; but he was still more sorry for the cruel conduct of the
two princesses, whom he had really liked, and who had behaved so
heartlessly to him for only doing his duty. Even now, however, he
behaved like a true gentleman.

When Fridolin asked him what he had to allege in his defence, he bowed
low before the king, and said "Nothing." When asked if he then
confessed himself guilty, he replied:

"May it please your majesty, I should feel guilty if I allowed myself
to deny any statement made by the noble princesses, your majesty's
royal daughters."

This speech would have touched many hearts, but Fridolin was in too
great a passion at that moment to be touched by anything, and he gave
orders that Zac should immediately be thrown into a deep dungeon, fed
upon bread and water, and confined there until it should be settled
whether he should be beheaded or banished, which were the only two
punishments which occurred to the king just then. Accordingly, the poor
boy was roughly dragged away from the royal presence, taken down a
great many stone steps, until he arrived at the dungeon door, and then
thrust through it, and left to think over all that had happened.

The Princess Belinda, meanwhile, was quite ignorant of the whole affair
until the next morning, when her two sisters visited her in her
apartment. They came, as may be supposed, in no very friendly state of
mind, and told their story in a manner which would have greatly
distressed Belinda, if she had not had the most perfect reliance upon
Zac. They pretended to condole with her on the circumstance of his
having repeatedly made love to both of them, playing one off against
the other, and striving to induce them to persuade the king to let him
marry one of them instead of her. They said that they had refrained
from telling her this before, for fear of wounding her feelings, but
that now they were obliged to do so. Then they told their concocted
story about the summer-house, and related all that had subsequently
occurred. Poor Belinda shed bitter tears, but showed her disbelief in
their story so plainly, that they presently changed their tone, asked
who and what _she_ was, forsooth, that a husband should be provided for
her--telling her that she should never have him after all, that they
would take care he was kept in the dungeon until he came to his senses,
and making all kinds of other unpleasant observations, which made the
poor child very unhappy. So as soon as her sisters had left her, she
determined to go down to her foster-mother's cottage, and seek
consolation from her.

Off she set, and walked down to the forest, crying all the way, until
she got to the cottage. There, to her dismay, she found the door
locked, for the good woman had gone to carry her husband's dinner out
to him on the plain, and had locked up the house until her return.
Belinda did not know what to do, for as she was not very strong, she
felt somewhat tired with her walk, and not equal to walking back again
without rest. So she sat down in the trellised arbour by the cottage
door, and presently fell fast asleep. As she slept, she dreamed a
curious dream. She thought that her mother came and looked upon her. Of
course, Belinda could not remember her mother, for the very good reason
that she had died very shortly after the child was born. Still, somehow
or other, she knew it was her mother, very bright and beautiful, and
with such a loving look upon her face as only mothers have when they
gaze upon their children. When her mother had looked down upon her for
a little while, she stooped down and spoke, in a soft, sweet, gentle
tone of voice.

"My little one," she said, "do not despair and be down-hearted: all
will yet be well with you. You have had much trouble in the past, but
your happiness in the future will be all the brighter by the contrast.
If you want help, you are near it now, for Canetto, the Prince of the
Forest Mannikins, is my cousin, and you are in his country."

Belinda started up wide-awake, just as her mother seemed to have
finished speaking. The words were still ringing in her ears, and she
looked round and rubbed her eyes in great amazement. There was nothing
to be seen. A soft breeze from the south gently stirred the leaves of
the honeysuckle and sweetbriar which enfolded the little arbour in
their fragrant embrace. The doves were gently cooing in the fir-trees,
and far, far away she heard the distant bleating of the sheep on the
plain, but there was no mortal being near her. The loving mother, then,
had been but the unreal vision of a dream, and the encouraging words
had been no more than a passing thought or fancy of her own,
mysteriously clothed for a moment with sound. Yet they seemed so
vivid--so true. So certain was she that she had actually heard them,
that almost insensibly she found herself repeating them aloud.

"Canetto, the Prince of the Forest Mannikins," she exclaimed, and the
next moment started with affright at the effect which her own words had
produced.

"Who calls Canetto?" said a voice; and at the same instant she
perceived a figure standing a few yards off from the entrance to the
arbour. It was the figure of a little old man, about three feet high,
dressed in a dark green coat, with a velveteen waistcoat and white
corduroys. In his hand he held a hunting-whip, with which he carelessly
flicked off the heads of the daisies as he stood. Upon his head was a
species of wide-awake, as far as Belinda could judge; at least it was
of that kind of shape, and seemed to be made of some light material
suited to the heat of the weather. But the most remarkable thing about
the old gentleman was the marvellous mixture of intelligence and
good-humour which appeared upon his countenance. His eyes sparkled with
a kind of light, which told you at the first glance that he was not a
man to be easily hum-bugged, whilst the smile which seemed constantly
hovering upon his mouth betokened a fund of humour and kind-heartedness
which was very reassuring to the young princess.

"Who calls Canetto?" he said again, in a kind voice.

The maiden knew that common politeness, as well as her own interest,
required a prompt reply.

"Sir," she said, "I am Belinda, King Fridolin's youngest daughter, and
my mother was your cousin, I think, and I am very unhappy, and I don't
know what to do, and I dreamed that my mother came and told me to ask
you to help me; and oh! pray don't be angry with me, for I do not want
to do any harm to anybody, only if I may be a little happier!"

While Belinda spoke the little man kept on flicking his hunting-whip
and smiling benignly all the time.

"A little happier, my lambkin?" he said as soon as she had finished.
"To be sure you shall. Why not? Your mother my cousin? That she was
indeed, poor darling! Not only my cousin was she, but we used to be the
best of friends before she married King Fridolin, after which I saw
little of her, and knew nothing of her great trouble until it was too
late to help her."

At these words the princess quite forgot her own sorrow for the moment,
in the intense desire she had to know the history of the mother of whom
neither her father nor her sisters ever spoke.

"Oh, sir," she cried in an agitated voice, "please tell me about my
dear mother. I have so longed to know all about her, and I never shall
know unless somebody tells me, for she died when I was quite little,
and no one in the palace ever speaks of her to me."

A tinge of melancholy replaced the smile upon the little man's face as
he replied to Belinda's question.

"Your mother," said he, "was neither more nor less than an angel, which
is more than I can say for your royal father; although, after all, his
faults are rather those of his education than any which arise from his
natural disposition, which is far from bad. But it is difficult for
kings, who have the world at their feet and always get their own way,
to be all that one could wish them. Your mother was as near perfection,
in body as well as mind, as any human being can attain. Why she married
your father I could never understand, except it was because she chose
to do so. There were others," (here the small gentleman drew himself up
to his full height, placed his right hand upon his heart, and heaved a
deep sigh), "there were others who loved her as well and might have
made her happier. But Fridolin carried her off, and for a time they
were happy. When your elder sisters were born he was contented,
although he had wished for a prince, but he could not object to
children of such rare beauty. Then came the trouble.

"The fairy Nuisancenika had, and has, wondrous power over the Plain
country--by which I don't mean the country of 'plain' people, though
_she_ is 'plain' enough in all conscience, but the flat country,
wherever there are no woods and hills. Well, this disagreeable woman
was always jealous of your mother's beauty, because she herself
possessed none, and was the more angry with her because, I think, she
always had a fancy to be queen herself. Still, she dared not injure a
queen who had carefully avoided doing anything which might give her
reasonable cause of offence. True, she did what she could to poison
your father's mind and make him dislike his wife; but, save for an
unfortunate accident, I think she would have failed altogether. The
poor queen dropped her writing-case upon one occasion, and the wicked
fairy, finding it, secured some of her private note paper and envelopes
with her own particular cipher thereupon. Of these she made use by
writing, in exact imitation of your mother's handwriting, some very
disagreeable things about the king, which she took good care should
fall into his hands. This caused unpleasantness between the hitherto
happy couple, and Nuisancenika made it her business to manage that it
should not pass away. Then, most unhappily, in driving out one day in
her pony-carriage, your poor mother had the bad luck to drive over one
of the fairy's favourite adders, which was fast asleep on a grass ride
where it had no earthly business to be, and had no right whatever to
complain of being killed. But the wicked mistress was furious beyond
measure; and as the event occurred when the queen was in the plain
country, driving, I believe, to fetch her husband news how the lambing
was going on, this circumstance somehow or other gave the fairy power
over her which she cruelly used. Had I only known of it in time, the
whole misfortune might have been prevented, but I chanced to be away on
a visit, and when I returned, your mother was dead and the mischief
done. I heard of it too late, and the wretch Nuisancenika had taken
such precautions by her enchantments during my absence that, although
my power is greater than hers, I could do nothing at all in the matter;
nor could I have even disclosed to you the truth, as I have now done,
unless you had, of your own free will, come into my country and asked
me the question outright."

By the time Canetto had finished his sad story, the poor child to whom
he spoke was bathed in tears. She thought not of herself, for her want
of beauty and good shape were misfortunes which she had been long
accustomed to regard with resignation; but the sorrows and sufferings
of her mother penetrated her gentle spirit with the profoundest
emotion. She looked up through her tears at the little man, and thanked
him in a soft, low voice, broken by her sobs, for his goodness in
satisfying her curiosity.

After a short pause he began again:--

"Dry your tears, my petkin," he said, "for I have not come here to make
you miserable, but the very reverse, if I can but manage to do so. It
was only right that you should know the sorrows of your mother, and the
story of your birth, but I should not have cared to tell you if I could
do nothing more. It is now _your_ turn to speak, and tell me the reason
of your coming here; because I have had no communication with the
palace, and could have none, during the time that the spell lasted,
which you have this day broken by coming here."

Belinda did as she was told (which young ladies should always do, if
they wish to be respected and beloved, unless they are told to do
something which they dislike, in which case of course it is quite a
different matter) and then proceeded to tell the Prince of the Forest
Mannikins the whole story of her life, her affection for Zac, the
conduct of her sisters with regard to that excellent youth, and her
present affliction in consequence of his imprisonment by her father.

During the narration of her story, the little man flicked his
hunting-whip continually and appeared at once interested and excited.
When she had concluded, and seemed much inclined to indulge in another
flood of tears, he hastily stopped her.

"Little petkin," he remarked, "crying can do nobody any good at all,
and least of all anyone who has another and better cure for their
misfortunes. Come with me, Childerkin, and we will see whether
something cannot be done to make matters wear a better appearance."

With these words Canetto led the way into the forest behind the
shepherd's cottage, and Belinda followed him with the utmost
confidence, being quite sure that he meant to help her if he could. And
here we must leave our little princess for a time, in order to return
to another individual in whom we ought to be equally interested.

Poor Zac had been cast into a most uncomfortable dungeon, in which
there was only one half-broken wooden form to sit down upon, whilst the
air was close and heavy, the space confined, and the only light came
from a grating in one corner of the ceiling, probably placed there for
the purposes of ventilation, and opening into the bottom of a kind of
deep ditch, which itself could only be reached by the light from a long
distance above. This was indeed a sad change for the poor boy, who had
so long been accustomed to the comforts and luxuries of the palace. He
felt, as was natural, much cast down and dispirited by his sudden
reverse of fortune, and his only consolation was that he had not
brought it on himself by any bad conduct of his own. It was very
unpleasant, certainly, to be accused of behaving badly to the two
princesses, when no one could have possibly behaved better; but he
thought to himself that it would have been much worse if he had really
been guilty. Besides, he had another consolation, in the firm reliance
which he felt in the constancy and affection of Belinda. She, he knew,
would be true to him, whatever happened, and this thought cheered his
drooping spirits.

He felt rather hungry, and, finding a loaf of black bread and a pitcher
of water near it, determined to satisfy his craving forthwith. Having
done this there was nothing for it but to sit and think, which he
accordingly did, going carefully over in his mind all the events of his
past life, and wondering much at the curious fate which had befallen
him. He could not recollect anything that had happened when he was
_very_ young. He only remembered being very unhappy at his father's
house, being called by his elder brothers and sisters "the little
gentleman," and pushed about here and there and everywhere, as if
everybody wished him out of the way. Then he called to mind how hard he
had tried to be gentle and loving to all, and how he had gradually
seemed to get on better and to be more kindly treated. Then came the
circumstance of his having specially to tend the pigs, and then the
proclamation of the pig-race, when he remembered a discussion about who
should ride "Sandy Sue," and how one of the elder Dicksons had been
anxious to do so, but was forbidden by his father, who said that
"gentleman Zac" was the only one who could win on her, and ride he
should. Since that day of course he remembered everything very
distinctly--how he had been introduced to the little princess, and her
sisters, and the king--how frightened he had been at first, and how
soon he had got over that feeling--how kind they had all been to
him--how he had taken to his learning and delighted in his books; and
then all the sad and trying events of the last few months and his
sudden downfall from his career of promised happiness.

All these thoughts passed through the poor boy's head as he sat in his
lonely dungeon, and hours slipped by without his taking any count of
them. The shades of evening had now fallen upon the palace, but this
made little difference to Zac, and indeed he found he could see rather
better than upon his first entrance, since his eyes began to become
accustomed to the light. All at once he heard a little noise, as if
some animal was scratching close at hand. He looked listlessly round,
and thought how little it mattered to him what it was. A rat or a mouse
would be a companion to his solitude, but if such a creature appeared
it would probably fly as soon as it caught sight of him. The noise
continued, and in another moment a little mouse poked its head out of a
hole in the corner of the dungeon, and fixed its sharp black eyes upon
the prisoner as if it had come on purpose to see him and was very glad
to find him disengaged. Zac did not move at first, being fearful lest
he should disturb his little visitor; but he need not have been
alarmed, for it presently came quite out of the hole and sat a few
yards off from him, steadily looking him in the face. Seeing the
confidence of the animal, Zac thought there could be no fear of his
driving it away by the sound of his voice, so he said, partly to the
mouse and partly to himself:--

"Poor little creature, I wonder what _you_ want here?"

To his intense surprise the small creature immediately replied, in a
shrill but by no means unpleasant voice:--

"I came to see you, Mr. Zac, and to tell you the latest news."

"To see me!" exclaimed the astonished boy. "Well, you must be the best
mouse that ever was born to come and take pity upon a poor prisoner
like me. And since you can talk so well, perhaps you will kindly inform
me what news it is you have to tell."

"King Fridolin is very, very angry with you, Mr. Zac," replied the
mouse.

"Unfortunately, my little darling, _that_ is no news at all," rejoined
the boy; "I knew it, to my cost, some hours ago, and it is for that
very reason that you find me here."

"But," continued the mouse, "he is so angry that he is determined to
punish you with the most terrible punishment ever known, and is only
doubting now whether you shall be thrown into the adder-pit, or
stripped, smeared with honey and tied to a tree to amuse the wasps and
flies."

The poor boy shuddered at these words; but, recovering his firmness
immediately, rejoined:--

"Whatever it be, it will be in a good cause that I shall suffer, and I
must bear it as best I may."

The mouse went on:--

"You really ought not to have tried to kiss the Princess Concaterina,
Mr. Zac," she said.

"If you know anything at all, little mouse," said the boy, indignantly,
"you must know that I did no such thing."

"Then," rejoined the other, "why did you not deny it before the king?"

"Do you think I would brand Belinda's own sisters as the tellers of a
falsehood?" returned Zac.

"I think _I_ should, sooner than be thrown into a dungeon, and perhaps
into an adder-pit afterwards," gravely observed his visitor. "But they
say there is some hope for you yet; for the princesses are really fond
of you, and if you will consent to marry Concaterina, all may yet be
well with you."

"Do you think I would be so base as to save my life upon such terms?"
angrily responded the boy.

"Well, I don't know," said the mouse in a slow, hesitating tone of
voice, "I think I should, if I were you. I should really advise you to
do so. Just consider what a disagreeable, uncomfortable place this is,
compared with the palace. Then how _very_ unpleasant it would be to
feel the adders, creeping all over you with their cold, slimy touch,
and then stinging you to death at their leisure afterwards. Or how
painful and distressing to feel the wasps and flies biting and stinging
you, cheerfully buzzing about to look out for a tender place. Oh, it
would be a horrible death to die! I should _strongly_ advise you to
marry Concaterina and escape such a fate!"

"What!" exclaimed Zac, "do you come here pretending to be a friend of
mine, and advise me to be false to Belinda and break my plighted word?
I am quite ashamed of you for giving such advice, little mouse; as I
should be of myself if I could listen to it for one moment!"

"As for Belinda," replied the animal, shaking its head sorrowfully, "I
do not think you need concern yourself about _her_. She implicitly
believes the charge against you, and is eager that you should be
punished; whilst her tender-hearted sisters are inclined to ask their
father to pardon you."

At these words Zac started up in a great passion.

"Belinda false!" he cried. "Belinda believe me _guilty_! Mouse, I will
never believe it! You have betrayed yourself, and are an enemy instead
of a friend. I would sooner believe evil of myself than of the princess
against whom you utter this calumny. Take this for your wicked
falsehood!" So saying, he seized his shoe to throw at the mouse; when,
to his intense surprise, the little animal became suddenly transformed
into a human being, and Belinda herself stood before him.

"Dearest Zac!" she said, running up at once to the boy and embracing
him tenderly, "forgive me for the trial to which I have put your
constancy. It was not _my_ wish to do so, but the order of those who
have the right to command. I have found a friend who is as able as he
is willing to help us, and by his assistance I believe our happiness
will yet be secured. By his power I have been enabled to visit you in
your dungeon in the shape of a mouse, in order that I might convey to
you some information which is quite necessary to your safety."

"But who is this powerful friend?" asked Zac, when, having returned her
caress, he found words to express his feelings.

"He is Canetto, the Prince of the Forest Mannikins," replied Belinda;
"and having been a near relative of my dear mother's, he is very well
disposed towards me."

"What then am I to do?" asked the boy. "For, shut up, as I am, in this
horrid dungeon, it seems to me that nobody can do anything for me,
unless indeed they would change me into a mouse, that I might pass out
by the same hole as that by which you entered."

"That," said Belinda, "might doubtless be a very good plan, but it is
not the one which I am directed to follow. You must know that our
friend, all-powerful in the forest, has elsewhere bounds and limits to
his power, the reasons and degree of which you and I cannot understand.
It is for this cause that he does not come here at once and deliver you
from the dungeon; but, though he does not attempt this, he will give
you such help as shall assuredly procure your deliverance in due time.
He bade me tell you that you will certainly be taken out of this place
to-morrow, when the king will advise with his council what to do with
you. Be firm--though this I need scarcely tell you: if they give you
your choice of death, or if they offer you one wish before you die,
choose to be killed in the forest, under the shadow of the trees near
my foster-mother's cottage, and if they grant that wish the rest will
be easy. If (as is of course possible) they offer you no choice at all
in the matter, you must pronounce the magic word which alone can
prevent them harming you, but with which you are invulnerable."

"And what may that word be?" anxiously inquired Zac.

"It is not an easy one," replied the princess, "but as I may only say
it twice, listen very carefully whilst I do so, that you may remember
it well, since the least mistake might be attended with disastrous
consequences. The word is--'Ballykaluphmenonabababandleby."

"_What?_" exclaimed Zac in a horrified voice; upon which the princess
repeated the word again very slowly; but, though it doubtless appears
very easy to the reader, it completely puzzled poor Zac. He shook his
head mournfully--

"If it depends upon _that_," said he, "the game is up--I should never
be able to pronounce that word, if I waited till apples grow on peach
trees."

"I am very sorry," answered the princess in a sorrowful voice, "but you
see I can only tell you what Canetto told _me_, and we must hope for
the best. But now it is time for me to be off, for if I am not back at
the palace soon, my absence will be discovered, and I may be exposed to
unpleasant questions." So saying, she once more embraced the boy, and
then, approaching the hole, muttered some words which the mannikin king
had, no doubt, told her, and in another moment became once more a
mouse, and vanished from his sight.

The interview had somewhat encouraged Zac, although he had fearful
misgivings about the magic word, which, strange to say, appeared to him
both long and difficult. However, he resolved to make the best of it;
and having finished his loaf of bread and pitcher of water, lay down on
some straw which he found in the corner of his room, and fell fast
asleep. In the morning he was awakened by a surly gaoler, who brought
him a fresh loaf and some more water, of which he partook with all the
relish of a good appetite. Not long after this, he heard the noise of
persons descending the steps which led to his dungeon, and presently
the door was thrown open, and a guard appeared, whose orders were to
conduct the prisoner once more before the king.

Fridolin was sitting in his chair of state, surrounded by his
courtiers; and near him stood the two elder princesses, with downcast
eyes and cheeks suffused with modest blushes.

When the boy was brought in, the king frowned angrily upon him, and
shook his royal fist in a threatening manner.

"Well, you young villain!" he cried; "have you passed the night
bewailing your sins, and making ready for the death which certainly
awaits you?"

"My lord king," answered the boy, with uplifted head and undaunted eye,
"I have done no wrong against you or yours, and I deserve no death at
your hands."

"What?" cried the king in a rage. "Didst thou not admit thy crime
yesterday? Art thou not guilty of the charge brought against thee by
our daughters?"

"Sire," replied the boy, "I said yesterday, and I say again, that I
will not deny any statement made by these noble ladies."

"This is nonsense," said the king; "this is mere quibbling--again he
admits his guilt. What shall we do with him? I say death!"

The courtiers all immediately said death too, as they would with equal
unanimity have said anything else if their sovereign had happened to
say it instead.

"Well, then," rejoined the king, "by what death shall he die? What say
you, Lord Pompous?"

"Boil him," promptly replied the lord chamberlain, who was quite taken
aback at being thus suddenly addressed, and who was at the moment
thinking of a turkey which he had ordered for dinner, and with which he
confused the prisoner at the moment.

"Pompous, you are a fool!" shouted the king.

"As your majesty pleases," responded the old man, with a low obeisance;
and Fridolin went on to ask other opinions, which were all given with a
guarded reservation, that they were subject to his majesty thinking the
same, and if not, were no opinions at all.

"I think," said Fridolin presently, "that the pit of adders is the best
place for him."

"Just so, sire."

"Exactly what we thought."

"The very thing," were the muttered exclamations which immediately
passed round.

At this moment, Amabilia, rushed forward and threw herself at her
father's feet.

"Oh, no! dear father," she cried in piteous tones; "_not_ such a
dreadful fate as that, poor boy. Pray be more merciful, for _my_ sake."

Fridolin raised her affectionately from the ground.

"Well, well," he said, "have it your own way, my queenly girl; he shall
_not_ be thrown into the adder-pit if you have the slightest objection.
Gentlemen," he continued, turning to his council, "what say you to the
honey torture, and giving the wasps and bees and flies a treat?"

"Very good, your Majesty;" "Just the proper punishment for his crime,"
and similar observations, again proceeded from the crowd of sycophants.

But at this instant Concaterina jumped up and performed precisely the
same feat as that of her sister. Throwing herself upon her knees, she
clasped those of her father, and begged him not to subject poor Zac to
such a dreadful fate.

"All right," said the king, to whom nothing was so disagreeable as to
see his daughters cry, which Concaterina was beginning to do, and that
copiously. "He shall not die thus, if you don't wish it, my beauty; but
what in the name of all that is wonderful do you want me to do with the
fellow, if I am not to execute him according to the regular punishments
of the country?"

Now both the princesses had begun to be sorry for Zac; for on calmer
reflection they had come to the conclusion that it was rather hard that
he should die so young, and die, too, for keeping his faith which he
had plighted to a lady. True, he was a horrid fool for not preferring
one of them; but then fidelity was a virtue, and a rare one, and he
punished himself by preferring a plain--not to say ugly--wife to a
beauty. They would have been quite content to have given him a little
more taste of dungeon life, and then let him off, and all this talk
about killing him did not at all chime in with their ideas. Still, they
had raised the storm, and, as other people in a similar position have
often discovered, knew not how to allay it. If they recommended Zac's
pardon, they feared that their father would begin to doubt whether he
had really committed any offence at all. So they hung their heads and
said nothing, whilst Zac turned upon them a grateful look for having
saved him from two such unpleasant alternatives as those which had been
suggested.

After the king had pondered a minute, he struck violently at Lord
Pompous' toe with his sceptre, and gave vent to his usual exclamation
when excited by a sudden idea--"I've hit it!" which, fortunately for
the lord chamberlain, was in this instance untrue.

"The prisoner," continued the king, "shall choose his own death and the
place of his execution. Thus shall we blend mercy with justice, and
maintain our royal reputation for both."

On hearing these gracious words, the courtiers naturally turned
their eyes up to the heavens in admiration of such a display of
elevated feeling; and Lord Pompous looked wiser than ever, though
he instinctively edged a little further off from his august sovereign.

The latter now turned to Zac and demanded of him what death he would
choose to die, and where it should take place; calling upon him, at the
same time, to take notice of the clemency with which he was treated.

Although this did not strike Zac very forcibly, he was exceedingly glad
that matters had fallen out in this way, especially since his
treacherous memory had already completely forgotten the magic word,
which might otherwise have been his only chance of escape. He therefore
lost no time in answering the king's question.

"May it please your majesty," he said, "since my death is resolved
upon, I should like to be shot in the breast, so that I may stand face
to face with my executioners. For the place, I should like to be taken
down to the forest, where of old I kept my father's pigs, a simple boy
knowing nothing of palaces and princesses, which have brought me to
this. These were the scenes of my happy childhood. There let me end my
short life."

When the boy had finished speaking, Amabilia and Concaterina both burst
into tears, and would have interceded once more with their royal
parent, but the stern frown which he wore on his countenance restrained
them from so doing.

Fridolin directed that preparations should be made for the execution
within two hours of that time, and that all his court should be
summoned to it. It was to take place in a large open space upon the
edge of the forest, not far from the shepherd's cottage; and, in
consequence of the magnitude of the crime, and the exalted position
which the criminal had lately occupied as the affianced husband of one
of the king's daughters, the executioners were to be composed of
members of the nobility, all of whom were ordered to draw lots by which
it should be decided who should undertake this duty. Some little delay
was caused by the name of Lord Pompous being first drawn, who was known
to entertain a rooted aversion to fire-arms. This being properly
represented to the king, and also the extreme probability that the lord
chamberlain would in his confusion certainly shoot the wrong man, his
majesty was graciously pleased to allow the name to be set aside, and
twelve others selected. This done, and all the other arrangements
completed, the royal party set forth at the proper time, and came to
the spot which had been selected for the execution.

The two princesses who had been the cause of all this were by this time
plunged into the deepest distress, for they had never really intended
it to go so far, and thought that Zac would probably have been brought
to his knees and his senses before this, and would have been pardoned
on condition of his marrying one of them. They had not taken into
account the necessity of satisfying offended royalty, and that their
father, insulted as he believed himself to have been through them,
could not possibly pass the matter over without taking summary
vengeance on the culprit.

Nobody had thought anything of Belinda; but, to the surprise of many of
the party, she emerged from the door of her foster-mother's cottage,
leaning upon the old woman's arm, and apparently overwhelmed with
grief.

When the prisoner had been brought forward, the king in a loud voice
declared to the people what his crime had been, and what was to be his
punishment.

Then Zac, in a firm, calm tone, spoke to the crowd in these words. "I
have only one thing to answer to what is brought against me. I was
betrothed to the Princess Belinda, and I have been loyal and true to
her ever since my betrothal."

Before any one could prevent her, Belinda here suddenly sprang forward
with an agility of which no one believed her capable, and threw herself
into Zac's arms, exclaiming at the same time--"I believe you, my own
Zac; let us die together."

The crowd began to murmur. The king began to waver. The elder sisters
cried still more bitterly at the sight of such devotion. There was a
moment's hesitation, and a hope that Fridolin might relent from his
cruel purpose; when at that very moment a loud, hissing noise was
heard, and the figure of a little old woman, long past middle age and
without the slightest pretensions to beauty, came driving into the
middle of the crowd in a car drawn by pole-cats, whilst upon and around
her twined numerous snakes and adders, who hissed in such a threatening
manner at the crowd that the latter parted right and left in every
direction, and made way for her to advance within a very short distance
of the spot upon which stood the royal party and the prisoner.

Every eye was at once turned upon the new-comer, who waved her hand in
an imperious manner, and looked round with an eye accustomed to
command. As soon as it was evident she was about to speak, the snakes
and adders left off hissing, and there was a dead silence throughout
the whole body of people present. The old woman's voice was not
melodious--rather the contrary, in fact--but she spoke clearly enough,
and there was not the slightest difficulty in understanding her
meaning.

"I am the fairy Nuisancenika," she said, "and I reign, as many of you
may possibly know, over the Plain country. Having been particularly
busy lately in inventing a new kind of adder whose bite shall be beyond
the power of any antidote, I had not heard of the event which has been
appointed for to-day. As soon as I _did_ hear, I determined to come and
witness a righteous act performed by my old friend, King Fridolin.

"It is now some years ago since I avenged him upon his abominable wife,
whom I always detested, and who fortunately gave me power over her by
driving over my best viper in my own country. My vengeance, however,
was not satisfied by her death. Although I had no power over her elder
daughters, I was enabled to endow the last child with certain defects
and deformities which it is pleasant to me to find have been rather
increased than lessened by time. But if this girl gets a good and
loving husband, these things will cease to trouble her, and I shall be
robbed of one half my revenge. The low-born person she has chosen for
her husband would be beneath my notice but that she has fixed her
affections upon him. That is enough for me. He must die; and, when
Fridolin considers that this fellow has insulted his elder and
beautiful daughters, I cannot doubt that he will be of my opinion, and
direct that the sentence be carried out without further delay."

She ceased; and a dead silence prevailed for a few seconds.

Then Fridolin turned sharply to Pompous. "Lord chamberlain, what had I
better do?"

"What your majesty deems best under the circumstances," responded the
high functionary thus addressed.

"Pompous, you are a fool," retorted the king, angrily.

"If your majesty please to say so," replied the courtier, with a low
bow, and once more the sovereign had to think for himself. "There is
much force, madam, in what you advance upon this subject," he remarked
to the fairy.

"If there had not been I should not have taken the trouble to advance
it," answered she. "Do not make fool of yourself by pretending to doubt
as to what you ought to do. Have the young man shot directly, unless
you prefer that I should let my adders loose upon him."

Scarcely were these words out of her mouth, when a clear, flute-like
voice was heard ringing through the assembly. "Who talks of letting
loose adders in _my_ country?"

The people looked up and beheld a little man in a dark green coat,
velveteen waistcoat, and white corduroys, coming out of the forest with
a hunting-whip in his hand, which he leisurely flicked about as he
walked towards the royal party.

But this strange figure was not alone. There trooped after him, three
and three at a time, a whole regiment of little men, all dressed in
green, and apparently belonging to the first comer. They had also
whips, but kept them quiet, whilst they gradually increased in number,
until there were really more than you could have easily counted.

"I say!" repeated the little man in the same voice. "Who talks of
letting loose adders in _my_ country?"

"_Your_ country?" asked Fridolin indignantly. "It is _mine_!"--but he
was checked by the fairy, who put him aside at once, telling him that
his claim was not disputed, but had nothing to do with the question.

"_Your_ country?" she asked of the little man. "I like that! why you
know quite well it is _mine_, and has been for ages."

"I beg your pardon," said the other.

"I beg _yours_," retorted the fairy. "What do you mean by your mannikin
impudence? It is my country, and I mean to have the prince killed, and
settle once for all with this last child of your doll-faced cousin."

"Not so fast, madam," replied the little man, calmly. "It has never
been disputed that my kingdom--that is, the forest territory--includes
all the land within the limits of the forest, and the forest is held by
our greatest fairy lawyers, beyond all doubt, to mean all the land upon
and within which trees grow which are not separated from the bulk of
the forest by any fence. Cast your eyes behind you and you will see
that within the last few years, whilst you have been breeding adders,
and I have been hunting and travelling, King Fridolin has planted
largely, and those chestnut plantations, stretching from the forest on
the extreme right, quite across to the fringe of forest on the left,
have enclosed every yard of ground on which we are standing to-day, and
have rendered it beyond all doubt, part and parcel of the forest
territory, and consequently my country."

The fairy Nuisancenika looked right and left, and her countenance fell
considerably.

"Upon my word," she said, reluctantly, "I believe you are right. I had
overlooked those plantations. I don't know that I have any right to
interfere--I have given my advice--perhaps I had better go--" and she
took her whip up as if to lash her polecats forward.

"Stop!" cried the little man in a clear, strong voice. "There are two
words to that bargain: those who enter the forest territory cannot quit
it without my permission!" So saying, he made a sign to his mannikins,
who immediately formed a ring, several deep, around the fairy and the
whole royal party. Then the little man made a courteous bow to
Fridolin, and proceeded as follows:

"Do not think for a moment, King Fridolin," he said, "that any
usurpation of your rights is intended by my claim, undoubted as it is,
to sovereignty over this forest country. It is yours as kingdoms are
reckoned among mortals, and mine is a species of power which will never
clash with your authority. But you have several things to learn to-day
which it would have been well for you if you had learned before. I am
Canetto, king like yourself, and cousin to your late lamented wife.
Your conduct to her would be perfectly inexcusable if it had not been
that your mind was poisoned and you were utterly deceived by this
vilest of wicked fairies, Nuisancenika."

"'Tis false, villain!" shrieked this person, on finding herself alluded
to in this uncomplimentary manner.

"Hag!" replied Canetto, with a glance of wrath at her, "I should be
sorry to be obliged to proceed at once to extremities, but another such
interruption will expose you to the violent probability of being
whipped to death with your own adders immediately."

The fairy made a gesture of impotent wrath, and gnashed her teeth
savagely while the mannikin thus continued:

"The letters, king, which you believed to have been written by Queen
Rosetta, were all forged by this wretch, and written upon paper which
she had stolen from my poor cousin. She it was, moreover, who poisoned
the queen by viper-broth, and caused Belinda to be deformed and
afflicted as you see her. Fortunately, she was powerless to deprave her
mind, or debase her intellect, and you are happy in the possession of
such a daughter. But this wrinkled old sinner was not content with this
mischief. She it is who has been endeavouring to sow dissension in your
family, first, by putting it into the heads of both your elder
daughters to try and take away their sister's promised husband, and
next, by hardening your heart and preventing your showing mercy when
all your children would desire you to do so. But for this she has a
reason beyond her hatred of Rosetta, which has lasted even after her
death. Did you hear her mention the word 'prince' just now in speaking
of Zac? Well, Zac _is_ a prince!"

Here all three of the princesses started, and the two elder screamed
aloud.

"Yes!" continued Canetto, "that which I tell you is quite true,
surprising though it be. Zac's father is a powerful monarch, the king
of the country of the Red Camellias, which lies beyond my forest.
Having a spite against the king, this vile sorceress stole the boy at
an early age, and left him at a spot where he was found and taken home
by Farmer Dickson, who will verify all that I say. By my magic art I
knew this, but as I could do little or nothing beyond my forest, I
thought it best to keep quiet. Now, however, you know the secret of
Zac's gentle manners and general good behaviour, which, whenever you
observe in a boy, you may be perfectly sure that he is either the son
of a king, or of somebody else. The continuous and cruel hatred of
Nuisancenika has carried her to such a pitch, that she has come here
to-day to gratify her vengeance, and feast her murderous old eyes upon
the death of this poor boy, and the sufferings of your youngest
daughter. Her first punishment, therefore, shall be to witness
something precisely the reverse."

Then turning to Zac he touched his fetters with the hunting-whip which
he held in his hand, when they immediately fell off. He next raised the
whip and laid the lash lightly across Belinda's shoulders, at the same
time pronouncing the words--"Marlika, Marlika, humphty cambia," which
all the world knows to be Mannikin expressions of vast power. In this
instance their effect was both instantaneous and marvellous. Belinda's
hump fell off, formed itself into a round ball like a cannon ball;
bounded up, hit the wicked Fairy a tremendous blow in the chest which
knocked her backwards for a moment, and then utterly disappeared. But
this was not nearly all. Every defect in the young princess's form and
features vanished as if by magic, and she stood before the king, tall,
upright, straight as an arrow, and blushing in all the pride of
conscious beauty. At this moment, I am glad to say that Amabilia and
Concaterina, instead of showing any jealous feeling at a change which
really made their younger sister more charming than themselves, gave
vent to loud exclamations of joy, and rushed to congratulate and
embrace her. The latter ceremony had already been performed by Zac, and
all the royal family began to shed tears of happiness together.

But Fridolin had buried his face in his hands, and when he lifted up
his head, the marks of deep sorrow were set upon his features. "Oh, my
Rosetta!" he cried, in bitter anguish. "My lost and loved Rosetta! my
only love! my noble queen!" and as he spoke he swung his right arm
violently round in the extremity of his grief, catching Lord Pompous
full upon the nose with his fist, and causing it to bleed profusely.

"Do not grieve so much," observed Canetto with a smile; "look behind
you and see what is to be seen."

The king turned and perceived a lady of great beauty and stately mien
slowly advancing from the shepherd's cottage.

"'Tis she! 'Tis she!" he shrieked at the top of his voice, hit Lord
Pompous a tremendous blow on the third button of his waistcoat, which
doubled him up in no time, and with another cry of "Rosetta!" rushed
into the arms of his long lost wife.

"You see," said Canetto, still smiling, "Adder-broth is not so deadly
but what the forest has an antidote. Although I could not disclose it
until now, and even pretended to Belinda that her mother had died
during my absence, it was not so. By my magic art I contrived that you
should bury a waxen figure instead of your queen, whom I safely
conveyed to the forest. Had I not seen that you really repented of your
sins against her, and was I not captivated by Belinda's goodness, I
really think I should never have let you have her again. But, since she
wishes to return to you and to her children, I have agreed that it
shall be so. Take care you treat her well and tenderly for the future.

"The royal family were now full of joy, and even Amabilia and
Concaterina came in for their share of good luck, for the King of the
Mannikins chucked each of them pleasantly under the chin, told them
that he knew they were good girls at heart, and promised that both
should have royal husbands before they were twenty. Then he turned to
the fairy Nuisancenika with a dark frown upon his countenance.

"Miserable reprobate!" he exclaimed, apparently taking particular
delight in finding new epithets applicable to the old woman. "It only
remains now to deal with you. During an existence now prolonged to an
extent greater than that which any person kindly disposed towards
mankind could have wished, you have done an infinite quantity of
mischief. You have had considerable power, which you have consistently
employed as badly as possible. You are a pitiless, revengeful,
remorseless, black-hearted old hag. And now at last you are completely
in my power. Nothing can save you."

"Oh, mercy, mercy, dear, good King Canetto!" piteously whined the
fairy, as she crouched down in her car.

"Such mercy as you showed Rosetta and Belinda, and such as you wished
to show Zac. Such, I say, and no more, shall be your own portion. And
now for the first scene of the last act. Kill the polecats!"

He turned to his mannikins as he said this, and in another moment every
polecat was knocked on the head.

"Now for the adders," said Canetto; and the little men cut them to
pieces with their whips in less time than you would have thought
possible.

Then the king turned to Nuisancenika and spoke again.

"I might have you dealt with in the same way," he said; "and if I did
so, there is no one present who would not warmly approve and say,
'served her right.' But a true mannikin is never bloodthirsty, and I
will not adjudge to you that fate which you so richly deserve. Still,
since your power has been always exercised for ill, it must remain to
you no longer. I sentence y

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