"Everybody was glad to see him, but he had to eat his breakfast all alone nevertheless, for his cousins had been up and had theirs hours and hours before. One of his relatives was a pretty little auburn-haired la.s.s of some nine or ten summers, with blue, laughing eyes, and modest mien. She volunteered to show Harry round the farm. But Harry felt just a little afraid nevertheless, and considerably ashamed for being so, when he found himself in the great yard quite surrounded by hens and ducks and gobbling geese and turkeys. I think the animals themselves knew this, and did all they could to frighten him. The hens were content with cackling and grumbling, evidently trying to incite the c.o.c.ks to acts of open hostility against our trembling hero. The c.o.c.ks crew loudly at him, or defiantly approached him, looking as if they meant to imply that he owed it entirely to their generosity that his life was spared. The turkey-c.o.c.ks put themselves into all sorts of queer shapes--tried to look like fretful porcupines, elevated the red rag that Harry was astonished to see depending from their noses, and made terrible noises at him. The ducks were content with standing on tiptoe, clapping their snow-white wings, and crying, 'What! what! what!'

at the top of their voices. The peahens were merely curious and impertinent; but the geese were alarmingly intrusive. They stretched out their necks to the longest extent, approached him thus, and gave vent to hissings unutterable by any other creature than a goose.

"'They won't bite or anything, will they?' faltered our hero, feeling very small indeed.

"But his little companion only laughed right merrily. Then taking Harry's hand, she ran him off to show him more wonders--great horses that looked to the London boy as big as elephants; enormous oxen as big as rhinoceroses; donkeys that looked wiser than he could have believed it possible for a donkey to look; and goats that looked simply mischievous and nothing else. What a blessing it was for Harry that he had such a wise little guardian and mentor as his Cousin Lizzie. She went everywhere with him, and explained away all his doubts and difficulties. Ay, and she chaffed him not a little either, and laughed at all his queer mistakes; but I think she pitied him a good deal at the same time. 'Poor boy,' Lizzie used to think to herself, 'he has never been out of London before. What can he know?'

"Little Lizzie had the same kind pity on Harry's physical weakness as she had for his mental. Her cousin couldn't climb the broom-clad hills as she could--not at first, at all events; but after one month's stay in this wild, free country, new life and spirit seemed to be instilled into him. He could climb hills now fast enough; and he was never tired wandering in the dark pine forests, or over the mountains that were now bedecked in the glorious purple of the heather's bloom.

"Harry's uncle gave him many a bit of good advice, which went far to dispel both his doubts and fears, and that means his ignorance; for only the very ignorant dare to doubt what they cannot understand. 'There are more things in heaven and earth,' said his uncle one day, 'than we have dreamed of in our philosophy. What would you think of my honest dog there if he told you the electric telegraph was an impossibility, simply because _he_ couldn't understand it? Have faith, boy, have faith.'

"But would it be believed that this boy, this London boy, didn't know where chickens came from? He really didn't. Very little things sometimes form the turning-point in the history of great men, and lead them to a better train of thought. For remember that our mighty rivers that bear great navies to the ocean, like mighty thoughts, have very small beginnings.

"Harry observed a hen one day in a very great blaze of excitement. Her chickens were hatching. One after another they were popping out of the sh.e.l.l, and going directly to seek for food. One little fellow, who had just come out, was clapping his wings and stretching himself as coolly as if he had just come by train, and was glad the journey was over.

This was all very wonderful to Harry; it led him to think; the thought led to wisdom and faith.

"Harry took a long walk that day in his favourite pine forest, and for the first time in his life, it struck him that every creature he saw there had some avocation; flies, beetles, and birds, all were working.

Says Harry to himself, 'I, too, will be industrious. I may yet be something in this great world, in which I am now convinced everything is well ordained.'

"He kept that resolve firmly, unflinchingly; he is, while I write, one of the wealthiest merchants in London city; he is happy enough in this world, and has something in his breast which enables him to look beyond."

"Now one other," said Ida; "I know you have lots of pretty tales in that old portfolio."

"Well," I said, smiling, "here goes; and then you'll sleep."

KING JOHN; OR, THE TALE OF A TUB.

"King John, he called himself, but every human being about the farm of b.u.t.tercup Hill called him Jock--simply that, and nothing else. But Jock, or King John, there was one thing that n.o.body could deny--he was not only the chief among all the other fowls around him, but he thought himself a very important and a very exalted bird indeed; and no wonder that he clapped his wings and crowed defiance at any one who chanced to take particular notice of him, or that he asked in defiant tones, 'Kok _aik_ uk uk?' with strong emphasis on the '_aik_,' and which in English means, 'How dare you stand and stare at _me_?'

"King John's tail was a ma.s.s of nodding plumage of the darkest purple, his wattles and comb were of the rosiest red, his wings and neck were crimson and gold, and his batonlike legs were armed with spurs as long as one's little finger, and stronger and sharper than polished steel.

Had you dared to go too near any one of his feathered companions--that is, those whom he cared about--you would have repented it the very next minute, and King John's spurs would have been brought into play. But Jock wouldn't have objected to your admiring them, so long as you kept at a respectable distance, on the other side of the fence, for instance.

And pretty fowls they were--most of them young too--golden-pencilled Hamburgs, sprightly Spaniards, and sedate-looking Dorkings, to say nothing of two ancient grand hens of no particular breed at all, but who, being extremely fat and imposing in appearance, were admitted to the high honour of roosting every night one on each side of the king, and were moreover taken into consultation by him, in every matter likely to affect the interests of his dynasty, or the welfare of the junior members of the farmyard.

"Now Jock was deeply impressed with the dignity of the office he held.

He was a very proud king--though, to his credit be it said, he was also a very good king. And never since he had first mounted his throne--an old water-tub, by the way--and sounded his shrill clarion, shouting a challenge to every c.o.c.k or king within hearing--never, I say, had he been known to fill his own crop of a morning until the crops of all the hens about him were well packed with all good comestibles. Such then was Jock, such was King John. But, mind you, this gallant bird had not been a king all his life. No, and neither had he been born a prince.

There was a mystery about his real origin and species. Judging from the colour of the egg from which he was hatched, Jock _ought_ to have been a Cochin. But Jock was nothing of the sort, as one glance at our picture will be sufficient to convince you. But I think it highly probable that the egg in question was stained by some unprincipled person, to cause it to look like that of the favourite Cochin. Be that as it may, Jock was duly hatched, and in course of time was fully fledged, and one day attempted to crow, for which little performance he was not only pecked on the back by the two fat old hens, but chased all round the yard by King c.o.c.keroo, who was then lord and master of the farmyard. When he grew a little older he used to betake himself to places remote from observance, and study the song of chanticleer. But the older he grew the prettier he grew, and the prettier he grew the more King c.o.c.keroo seemed to dislike him; indeed, he thrashed him every morning and every evening, and at odd times during the day, so that at last Jock's life became most unbearable. One morning, however, when glancing downwards at his legs, he observed that his spurs had grown long and strong and sharp, and after this he determined to throw off for ever the yoke of allegiance to cruel King c.o.c.keroo; he resolved to try the fortune of war even, and if he lost the battle, he thought to himself he would be no worse off than before.

"Now on the following day young Jock happened to find a nice large potato, and said he to himself, 'Hullo! I'm fortunate to-day; I'll have such a nice breakfast.'

"'Will you indeed?' cried a harsh voice quite close to his ear, and he found himself in the dread presence of King c.o.c.keroo, a very large yellow Cochin China. 'Will you indeed?' repeated his majesty. 'How dare _you_ attempt to eat a _whole_ potato. Put it down at once and leave the yard.'

"'I won't,' cried the little c.o.c.k, quite bravely.

"'Then I'll make you,' roared the big one.

"'Then I shan't,' was the bold reply.

"Now, like all bullies, King c.o.c.keroo was a coward at heart, so the battle that followed was of short duration, but very decisive for all that, and in less than five minutes King c.o.c.keroo was flying in confusion before his young but victorious enemy.

"When he had left the yard, the long-persecuted but now triumphant Jock mounted his throne--the afore-mentioned water-b.u.t.t--and crew and crew and crew, until he was so hoa.r.s.e that he couldn't crow any longer; then he jumped down and received the congratulations of all the inhabitants of the farmyard. And that is how Jock became King John.

"The poor deposed monarch never afterwards dared to come near the yard, in which he had at one time reigned so happily. He slept no longer on his old roost, but was fain to perch all alone on the edge of the garden barrow in the tool-house. He found no pleasure now in his sad and sorrowful life, except in eating; and having no one to share his meals with him, he began to get lazy and fat, and every day he got lazier and fatter, till at last it was all he could do to move about with anything like comfort. When he wanted to relieve his mind by crowing, he had to waddle away to a safe distance from the yard, or else King John would have flown upon him and pecked him most cruelly.

"And now those very fowls, who once thought so much of him, used to laugh when they heard him crowing, and remark to young King John--

"'Just listen to that asthmatical old silly,' for his articulation was not so distinct as it formerly was.

"'Kurr-r-r!' the new king would reply, 'he'd better keep at a respectable distance, or c.o.c.k-a-ro-ri-ko! I'll--I'll eat him entirely up!'

"'I think,' said the farmer of b.u.t.tercup Hill one day to his wife--'I think we'd better have t'ould c.o.c.k for our Sunday's dinner.'

"'Won't he be a bit tough?' his good wife replied.

"'Maybe, my dear,' said the farmer, 'but fine and fat, and plenty of him, at any rate.'

"Poor c.o.c.keroo, what a fall was his! And oh! the sad irony of fate, for on the very morning of this deposed monarch's execution, the sun was shining, the birds singing, the corn springing up and looking so green and bonny; and probably the last thing he heard in life was King John crowing, as he proudly perched himself on the edge of his water-tub throne. One could almost afford to drop a tear of pity for the dead King c.o.c.keroo, were it possible to forget that, while in life and in power, he had been both a bully and a coward.

"But bad as bullying and cowardice are, there are other faults in many beings which, if not eradicated, are apt to lead the possessors thereof to a bad end. I have nothing to say against ambition, so long as it is lawful and kept within due bounds, but pride is a bad trait in the character of even old or young; and if you listen I will tell you how this failing brought even brave and gallant King John to an untimely end.

"After the death of King c.o.c.keroo the pride of Jack knew no bounds. His greatest enemy was gone, and there was not--so he thought--another c.o.c.k in creation who would dare to face him; for did they not all prefer crowing at a distance, and did he not always answer them day or night, and defy them? His bearing towards the other fowls began to change. He still collected food for the hens, it is true, but he no longer tried to coax them to eat it. They would doubtless, he said, partake of it if they were hungry, and if they were not hungry, why, they could simply leave it.

"Jack had never had much respect for human beings--_they_! poor helpless things, had no wings to clap, and they couldn't crow; _they_ had no pretty plumage of their own, but were fain to clothe themselves in sheep's raiment or the coc.o.o.ns of caterpillars; and _now_ he wholly despised them, and showed it too, for he spurred the legs of Gosling the ploughboy, and rent into ribbons the new dress of Mary the milkmaid, because she had invaded his territory in search of eggs. Even the death of the two favourite hens I have told you of, which took place somewhat suddenly one Sat.u.r.day morning, failed to sober him or tone down his rampant pride. He installed two other very fat hens in their place on the perch, and then crowed more loudly than ever.

"He spent much of his time now on his old throne; for it was always well filled with water, which served the purpose of a looking-gla.s.s, and reflected his gay and sprightly person, his rosy comb, and his nodding plumes. He would sometimes invite a favourite fowl to share the honours of his throne with him, but I really believe it was merely that its plainer reflection might make his own beautiful image the more apparent.

"'Oh!' he would cry, 'don't I look lovely, and don't you look dowdy beside _me_? Kurr! Kurr-r-r! Am I not perfection itself?'

"Of course no one of the fowls in the yard dared to contradict him or gainsay a word he spoke, but still I doubt whether they believed him to be altogether such a very exalted personage as he tried to make himself out.

"And now my little tale draws speedily to its dark, but not, I trust, uninstructive close.

"The sun rose among clouds of brightest crimson one lovely summer's morning, and his beams flooded all the beautiful country, making every creature and everything glad, birds and beasts, flowers and trees, and rippling streams. Alas! how often in this world of ours is the sunrise in glory followed by a sunset in gloom. Noon had hardly pa.s.sed ere rock-shaped clouds began to bank up in the south and obscure the sun, the wind fell to a dead calm, and the stillness became oppressive; but it was broken at length by a loud peal of thunder, that seemed to rend the earth to its very foundations. Then the sky grew darker and darker; and the darker it grew, the more vividly the lightning flashed, the more loudly pealed the thunder. Then the rain came down, such rain as neither the good farmer of b.u.t.tercup Hill nor his wife ever remembered seeing before. King John was fain to seek shelter for himself and his companions under the garden seat, but even there they were drenched, and a very miserable sight they presented.

"'Oh I what a terrible storm!' cried a wise old hen.

"'Who is afraid?' said the proud King John, stepping out into the midst of it. 'Behold my throne; it shall never be moved.'

"Dread omen! at that very moment a hoop suddenly sprang up with a loud bang, the staves began to separate, and the water came pouring out between them, deluging all the place, and well-nigh drowning one of the two hens which had bravely tried to share Jock's peril with him!

"'Kur-r-r!' cried the king, astonishment and rage depicted on every lineament of his countenance. 'Kurr! kurr! what trickery is this? But, behold, I have but to mount my throne and crow, and at once the thunder and the rain will cease, and the sun will shine again!'

"He suited the action to the word, but, alas! the sun never shone again for him. His additional weight completed the mischief, and the tottering throne gave way with a crash.

"There was woe in the farmyard that day, for under the ruins of his throne lay the lifeless body of Jock--the once proud, the once mighty King John."