No More Learning

"Have you seen the most beautiful places
in the world, and can you tell us all about them? and have you been in
the storeroom, where cheeses lie on the shelf, and hams hang from
the ceiling? One can run about on tallow candles there, and go in thin
and come out fat. "

"I know nothing of that place," said the fir-tree, "but I know the
wood where the sun shines and the birds sing. " And then the tree
told the little mice all about its youth. They had never heard such an
account in their lives; and after they had listened to it attentively,
they said, "What a number of things you have seen? you must have
been very happy. "

"Happy! " exclaimed the fir-tree, and then as he reflected upon
what he had been telling them, he said, "Ah, yes! after all those were
happy days. " But when he went on and related all about Christmas-eve,
and how he had been dressed up with cakes and lights, the mice
said, "How happy you must have been, you old fir-tree. "

"I am not old at all," replied the tree, "I only came from the
forest this winter, I am now checked in my growth. "

"What splendid stories you can relate," said the little mice.
And the next night four other mice came with them to hear what the
tree had to tell. The more he talked the more he remembered, and
then he thought to himself, "Those were happy days, but they may
come again. Humpty Dumpty fell down stairs, and yet he married the
princess; perhaps I may marry a princess too. " And the fir-tree
thought of the pretty little birch-tree that grew in the forest, which
was to him a real beautiful princess.

"Who is Humpty Dumpty? " asked the little mice. And then the tree
related the whole story; he could remember every single word, and
the little mice was so delighted with it, that they were ready to jump
to the top of the tree. The next night a great many more mice made
their appearance, and on Sunday two rats came with them; but they
said, it was not a pretty story at all, and the little mice were
very sorry, for it made them also think less of it.

"Do you know only one story? " asked the rats.

"Only one," replied the fir-tree; "I heard it on the happiest
evening of my life; but I did not know I was so happy at the time. "

"We think it is a very miserable story," said the rats. "Don't you
know any story about bacon, or tallow in the storeroom. "

"No," replied the tree.

"Many thanks to you then," replied the rats, and they marched off.

The little mice also kept away after this, and the tree sighed,
and said, "It was very pleasant when the merry little mice sat round
me and listened while I talked. Now that is all passed too. However, I
shall consider myself happy when some one comes to take me out of this
place. " But would this ever happen? Yes; one morning people came to
clear out the garret, the boxes were packed away, and the tree was
pulled out of the corner, and thrown roughly on the garret floor; then
the servant dragged it out upon the staircase where the daylight
shone. "Now life is beginning again," said the tree, rejoicing in
the sunshine and fresh air. Then it was carried down stairs and
taken into the courtyard so quickly, that it forgot to think of
itself, and could only look about, there was so much to be seen. The
court was close to a garden, where everything looked blooming. Fresh
and fragrant roses hung over the little palings. The linden-trees were
in blossom; while the swallows flew here and there, crying, "Twit,
twit, twit, my mate is coming,"--but it was not the fir-tree they
meant. "Now I shall live," cried the tree, joyfully spreading out
its branches; but alas! they were all withered and yellow, and it
lay in a corner amongst weeds and nettles. The star of gold paper
still stuck in the top of the tree and glittered in the sunshine. In
the same courtyard two of the merry children were playing who had
danced round the tree at Christmas, and had been so happy. The
youngest saw the gilded star, and ran and pulled it off the tree.
"Look what is sticking to the ugly old fir-tree," said the child,
treading on the branches till they crackled under his boots. And the
tree saw all the fresh bright flowers in the garden, and then looked
at itself, and wished it had remained in the dark corner of the
garret. It thought of its fresh youth in the forest, of the merry
Christmas evening, and of the little mice who had listened to the
story of "Humpty Dumpty. " "Past! past! " said the old tree; "Oh, had
I but enjoyed myself while I could have done so! but now it is too
late. " Then a lad came and chopped the tree into small pieces, till
a large bundle lay in a heap on the ground. The pieces were placed
in a fire under the copper, and they quickly blazed up brightly, while
the tree sighed so deeply that each sigh was like a pistol-shot.
Then the children, who were at play, came and seated themselves in
front of the fire, and looked at it and cried, "Pop, pop. " But at each
"pop," which was a deep sigh, the tree was thinking of a summer day in
the forest; and of Christmas evening, and of "Humpty Dumpty," the only
story it had ever heard or knew how to relate, till at last it was
consumed. The boys still played in the garden, and the youngest wore
the golden star on his breast, with which the tree had been adorned
during the happiest evening of its existence. Now all was past; the
tree's life was past, and the story also,--for all stories must come
to an end at last.




THE FLAX

The flax was in full bloom; it had pretty little blue flowers as
delicate as the wings of a moth, or even more so. The sun shone, and
the showers watered it; and this was just as good for the flax as it
is for little children to be washed and then kissed by their mother.
They look much prettier for it, and so did the flax.

"People say that I look exceedingly well," said the flax, "and
that I am so fine and long that I shall make a beautiful piece of
linen. How fortunate I am; it makes me so happy, it is such a pleasant
thing to know that something can be made of me. How the sunshine
cheers me, and how sweet and refreshing is the rain; my happiness
overpowers me, no one in the world can feel happier than I am. "

"Ah, yes, no doubt," said the fern, "but you do not know the world
yet as well as I do, for my sticks are knotty;" and then it sung quite
mournfully--

"Snip, snap, snurre,
Basse lurre:
The song is ended. "


"No, it is not ended," said the flax. "To-morrow the sun will
shine, or the rain descend. I feel that I am growing. I feel that I am
in full blossom. I am the happiest of all creatures. "

Well, one day some people came, who took hold of the flax, and
pulled it up by the roots; this was painful; then it was laid in water
as if they intended to drown it; and, after that, placed near a fire
as if it were to be roasted; all this was very shocking. "We cannot
expect to be happy always," said the flax; "by experiencing evil as
well as good, we become wise. " And certainly there was plenty of
evil in store for the flax. It was steeped, and roasted, and broken,
and combed; indeed, it scarcely knew what was done to it. At last it
was put on the spinning wheel. "Whirr, whirr," went the wheel so
quickly that the flax could not collect its thoughts. "Well, I have
been very happy," he thought in the midst of his pain, "and must be
contented with the past;" and contented he remained till he was put on
the loom, and became a beautiful piece of white linen. All the flax,
even to the last stalk, was used in making this one piece. "Well, this
is quite wonderful; I could not have believed that I should be so
favored by fortune. The fern was not wrong with its song of

'Snip, snap, snurre,
Basse lurre. '

But the song is not ended yet, I am sure; it is only just beginning.
How wonderful it is, that after all I have suffered, I am made
something of at last; I am the luckiest person in the world--so strong
and fine; and how white, and what a length! This is something
different to being a mere plant and bearing flowers. Then I had no
attention, nor any water unless it rained; now, I am watched and taken
care of. Every morning the maid turns me over, and I have a
shower-bath from the watering-pot every evening. Yes, and the
clergyman's wife noticed me, and said I was the best piece of linen in
the whole parish. I cannot be happier than I am now. "

After some time, the linen was taken into the house, placed
under the scissors, and cut and torn into pieces, and then pricked
with needles. This certainly was not pleasant; but at last it was made
into twelve garments of that kind which people do not like to name,
and yet everybody should wear one. "See, now, then," said the flax; "I
have become something of importance. This was my destiny; it is
quite a blessing. Now I shall be of some use in the world, as everyone
ought to be; it is the only way to be happy. I am now divided into
twelve pieces, and yet we are all one and the same in the whole dozen.
It is most extraordinary good fortune. "

Years passed away, and at last the linen was so worn it could
scarcely hold together. "It must end very soon," said the pieces to
each other; "we would gladly have held together a little longer, but
it is useless to expect impossibilities. " And at length they fell into
rags and tatters, and thought it was all over with them, for they were
torn to shreds, and steeped in water, and made into a pulp, and dried,
and they knew not what besides, till all at once they found themselves
beautiful white paper. "Well, now, this is a surprise; a glorious
surprise too," said the paper. "I am now finer than ever, and I
shall be written upon, and who can tell what fine things I may have
written upon me. This is wonderful luck! " And sure enough the most
beautiful stories and poetry were written upon it, and only once was
there a blot, which was very fortunate. Then people heard the
stories and poetry read, and it made them wiser and better; for all
that was written had a good and sensible meaning, and a great blessing
was contained in the words on this paper.

"I never imagined anything like this," said the paper, "when I was
only a little blue flower, growing in the fields. How could I fancy
that I should ever be the means of bringing knowledge and joy to
man? I cannot understand it myself, and yet it is really so. Heaven
knows that I have done nothing myself, but what I was obliged to do
with my weak powers for my own preservation; and yet I have been
promoted from one joy and honor to another. Each time I think that the
song is ended; and then something higher and better begins for me. I
suppose now I shall be sent on my travels about the world, so that
people may read me. It cannot be otherwise; indeed, it is more than
probable; for I have more splendid thoughts written upon me, than I
had pretty flowers in olden times. I am happier than ever. "

But the paper did not go on its travels; it was sent to the
printer, and all the words written upon it were set up in type, to
make a book, or rather, many hundreds of books; for so many more
persons could derive pleasure and profit from a printed book, than
from the written paper; and if the paper had been sent around the
world, it would have been worn out before it had got half through
its journey.

"This is certainly the wisest plan," said the written paper; "I
really did not think of that. I shall remain at home, and be held in
honor, like some old grandfather, as I really am to all these new
books. They will do some good. I could not have wandered about as they
do. Yet he who wrote all this has looked at me, as every word flowed
from his pen upon my surface. I am the most honored of all. "

Then the paper was tied in a bundle with other papers, and
thrown into a tub that stood in the washhouse.

"After work, it is well to rest," said the paper, "and a very good
opportunity to collect one's thoughts. Now I am able, for the first
time, to think of my real condition; and to know one's self is true
progress. What will be done with me now, I wonder? No doubt I shall
still go forward. I have always progressed hitherto, as I know quite
well. "

Now it happened one day that all the paper in the tub was taken
out, and laid on the hearth to be burnt. People said it could not be
sold at the shop, to wrap up butter and sugar, because it had been
written upon. The children in the house stood round the stove; for
they wanted to see the paper burn, because it flamed up so prettily,
and afterwards, among the ashes, so many red sparks could be seen
running one after the other, here and there, as quick as the wind.
They called it seeing the children come out of school, and the last
spark was the schoolmaster. They often thought the last spark had
come; and one would cry, "There goes the schoolmaster;" but the next
moment another spark would appear, shining so beautifully. How they
would like to know where the sparks all went to! Perhaps we shall find
out some day, but we don't know now.

The whole bundle of paper had been placed on the fire, and was
soon alight. "Ugh," cried the paper, as it burst into a bright
flame; "ugh. " It was certainly not very pleasant to be burning; but
when the whole was wrapped in flames, the flames mounted up into the
air, higher than the flax had ever been able to raise its little
blue flower, and they glistened as the white linen never could have
glistened. All the written letters became quite red in a moment, and
all the words and thoughts turned to fire.

"Now I am mounting straight up to the sun," said a voice in the
flames; and it was as if a thousand voices echoed the words; and the
flames darted up through the chimney, and went out at the top. Then
a number of tiny beings, as many in number as the flowers on the
flax had been, and invisible to mortal eyes, floated above them.
They were even lighter and more delicate than the flowers from which
they were born; and as the flames were extinguished, and nothing
remained of the paper but black ashes, these little beings danced upon
it; and whenever they touched it, bright red sparks appeared.

"The children are all out of school, and the schoolmaster was
the last of all," said the children. It was good fun, and they sang
over the dead ashes,--

"Snip, snap, snurre,
Basse lure:
The song is ended. "


But the little invisible beings said, "The song is never ended;
the most beautiful is yet to come. "

But the children could neither hear nor understand this, nor
should they; for children must not know everything.




THE FLYING TRUNK

There was once a merchant who was so rich that he could have paved
the whole street with gold, and would even then have had enough for
a small alley. But he did not do so; he knew the value of money better
than to use it in this way. So clever was he, that every shilling he
put out brought him a crown; and so he continued till he died. His son
inherited his wealth, and he lived a merry life with it; he went to
a masquerade every night, made kites out of five pound notes, and
threw pieces of gold into the sea instead of stones, making ducks
and drakes of them. In this manner he soon lost all his money. At last
he had nothing left but a pair of slippers, an old dressing-gown,
and four shillings. And now all his friends deserted him, they could
not walk with him in the streets; but one of them, who was very
good-natured, sent him an old trunk with this message, "Pack up! "
"Yes," he said, "it is all very well to say 'pack up,'" but he had
nothing left to pack up, therefore he seated himself in the trunk.
It was a very wonderful trunk; no sooner did any one press on the lock
than the trunk could fly. He shut the lid and pressed the lock, when
away flew the trunk up the chimney with the merchant's son in it,
right up into the clouds. Whenever the bottom of the trunk cracked, he
was in a great fright, for if the trunk fell to pieces he would have
made a tremendous somerset over the trees. However, he got safely in
his trunk to the land of Turkey. He hid the trunk in the wood under
some dry leaves, and then went into the town: he could so this very
well, for the Turks always go about dressed in dressing-gowns and
slippers, as he was himself. He happened to meet a nurse with a little
child. "I say, you Turkish nurse," cried he, "what castle is that near
the town, with the windows placed so high? "

"The king's daughter lives there," she replied; "it has been
prophesied that she will be very unhappy about a lover, and
therefore no one is allowed to visit her, unless the king and queen
are present. "

"Thank you," said the merchant's son. So he went back to the wood,
seated himself in his trunk, flew up to the roof of the castle, and
crept through the window into the princess's room. She lay on the sofa
asleep, and she was so beautiful that the merchant's son could not
help kissing her. Then she awoke, and was very much frightened; but he
told her he was a Turkish angel, who had come down through the air
to see her, which pleased her very much. He sat down by her side and
talked to her: he said her eyes were like beautiful dark lakes, in
which the thoughts swam about like little mermaids, and he told her
that her forehead was a snowy mountain, which contained splendid halls
full of pictures. And then he related to her about the stork who
brings the beautiful children from the rivers. These were delightful
stories; and when he asked the princess if she would marry him, she
consented immediately.

"But you must come on Saturday," she said; "for then the king
and queen will take tea with me. They will be very proud when they
find that I am going to marry a Turkish angel; but you must think of
some very pretty stories to tell them, for my parents like to hear
stories better than anything. My mother prefers one that is deep and
moral; but my father likes something funny, to make him laugh. "

"Very well," he replied; "I shall bring you no other marriage
portion than a story," and so they parted. But the princess gave him a
sword which was studded with gold coins, and these he could use.

Then he flew away to the town and bought a new dressing-gown,
and afterwards returned to the wood, where he composed a story, so
as to be ready for Saturday, which was no easy matter. It was ready
however by Saturday, when he went to see the princess. The king, and
queen, and the whole court, were at tea with the princess; and he
was received with great politeness.

"Will you tell us a story? " said the queen,--"one that is
instructive and full of deep learning. "

"Yes, but with something in it to laugh at," said the king.

"Certainly," he replied, and commenced at once, asking them to
listen attentively. "There was once a bundle of matches that were
exceedingly proud of their high descent. Their genealogical tree, that
is, a large pine-tree from which they had been cut, was at one time
a large, old tree in the wood. The matches now lay between a
tinder-box and an old iron saucepan, and were talking about their
youthful days. 'Ah! then we grew on the green boughs, and were as
green as they; every morning and evening we were fed with diamond
drops of dew. Whenever the sun shone, we felt his warm rays, and the
little birds would relate stories to us as they sung. We knew that
we were rich, for the other trees only wore their green dress in
summer, but our family were able to array themselves in green,
summer and winter. But the wood-cutter came, like a great
revolution, and our family fell under the axe. The head of the house
obtained a situation as mainmast in a very fine ship, and can sail
round the world when he will. The other branches of the family were
taken to different places, and our office now is to kindle a light for
common people. This is how such high-born people as we came to be in a
kitchen. '

"'Mine has been a very different fate,' said the iron pot, which
stood by the matches; 'from my first entrance into the world I have
been used to cooking and scouring. I am the first in this house,
when anything solid or useful is required. My only pleasure is to be
made clean and shining after dinner, and to sit in my place and have a
little sensible conversation with my neighbors. All of us, excepting
the water-bucket, which is sometimes taken into the courtyard, live
here together within these four walls. We get our news from the
market-basket, but he sometimes tells us very unpleasant things
about the people and the government. Yes, and one day an old pot was
so alarmed, that he fell down and was broken to pieces. He was a
liberal, I can tell you. '

"'You are talking too much,' said the tinder-box, and the steel
struck against the flint till some sparks flew out, crying, 'We want a
merry evening, don't we? '

"'Yes, of course,' said the matches, 'let us talk about those
who are the highest born. '

"'No, I don't like to be always talking of what we are,'
remarked the saucepan; 'let us think of some other amusement; I will
begin. We will tell something that has happened to ourselves; that
will be very easy, and interesting as well. On the Baltic Sea, near
the Danish shore'--

"'What a pretty commencement! ' said the plates; 'we shall all
like that story, I am sure. '

"'Yes; well in my youth, I lived in a quiet family, where the
furniture was polished, the floors scoured, and clean curtains put
up every fortnight. '

"'What an interesting way you have of relating a story,' said
the carpet-broom; 'it is easy to perceive that you have been a great
deal in women's society, there is something so pure runs through
what you say.
'

"'That is quite true,' said the water-bucket; and he made a spring
with joy, and splashed some water on the floor.

"Then the saucepan went on with his story, and the end was as good
as the beginning.

"The plates rattled with pleasure, and the carpet-broom brought
some green parsley out of the dust-hole and crowned the saucepan,
for he knew it would vex the others; and he thought, 'If I crown him
to-day he will crown me to-morrow. '

"'Now, let us have a dance,' said the fire-tongs; and then how
they danced and stuck up one leg in the air. The chair-cushion in
the corner burst with laughter when she saw it.

"'Shall I be crowned now? ' asked the fire-tongs; so the broom
found another wreath for the tongs.

"'They were only common people after all,' thought the matches.
The tea-urn was now asked to sing, but she said she had a cold, and
could not sing without boiling heat. They all thought this was
affectation, and because she did not wish to sing excepting in the
parlor, when on the table with the grand people.

"In the window sat an old quill-pen, with which the maid generally
wrote. There was nothing remarkable about the pen, excepting that it
had been dipped too deeply in the ink, but it was proud of that.

"'If the tea-urn won't sing,' said the pen, 'she can leave it
alone; there is a nightingale in a cage who can sing; she has not been
taught much, certainly, but we need not say anything this evening
about that. '

"'I think it highly improper,' said the tea-kettle, who was
kitchen singer, and half-brother to the tea-urn, 'that a rich
foreign bird should be listened to here. Is it patriotic? Let the
market-basket decide what is right. '

"'I certainly am vexed,' said the basket; 'inwardly vexed, more
than any one can imagine. Are we spending the evening properly?
Would it not be more sensible to put the house in order? If each
were in his own place I would lead a game; this would be quite another
thing. '

"'Let us act a play,' said they all. At the same moment the door
opened, and the maid came in. Then not one stirred; they all
remained quite still; yet, at the same time, there was not a single
pot amongst them who had not a high opinion of himself, and of what he
could do if he chose.

"'Yes, if we had chosen,' they each thought, 'we might have
spent a very pleasant evening. '

"The maid took the matches and lighted them; dear me, how they
sputtered and blazed up!

"'Now then,' they thought, 'every one will see that we are the
first. How we shine; what a light we give! ' Even while they spoke
their light went out.

"What a capital story," said the queen, "I feel as if I were
really in the kitchen, and could see the matches; yes, you shall marry
our daughter. "

"Certainly," said the king, "thou shalt have our daughter. " The
king said thou to him because he was going to be one of the family.
The wedding-day was fixed, and, on the evening before, the whole
city was illuminated. Cakes and sweetmeats were thrown among the
people. The street boys stood on tiptoe and shouted "hurrah," and
whistled between their fingers; altogether it was a very splendid
affair.

"I will give them another treat," said the merchant's son. So he
went and bought rockets and crackers, and all sorts of fire-works that
could be thought of, packed them in his trunk, and flew up with it
into the air. What a whizzing and popping they made as they went
off! The Turks, when they saw such a sight in the air, jumped so
high that their slippers flew about their ears. It was easy to believe
after this that the princess was really going to marry a Turkish
angel.

As soon as the merchant's son had come down in his flying trunk to
the wood after the fireworks, he thought, "I will go back into the
town now, and hear what they think of the entertainment. " It was
very natural that he should wish to know. And what strange things
people did say, to be sure! every one whom he questioned had a
different tale to tell, though they all thought it very beautiful.

"'I saw the Turkish angel myself," said one; "he had eyes like
glittering stars, and a head like foaming water. "

"He flew in a mantle of fire," cried another, "and lovely little
cherubs peeped out from the folds. "

He heard many more fine things about himself, and that the next
day he was to be married. After this he went back to the forest to
rest himself in his trunk. It had disappeared! A spark from the
fireworks which remained had set it on fire; it was burnt to ashes! So
the merchant's son could not fly any more, nor go to meet his bride.
She stood all day on the roof waiting for him, and most likely she
is waiting there still; while he wanders through the world telling
fairy tales, but none of them so amusing as the one he related about
the matches.




THE SHEPHERD'S STORY OF THE BOND OF FRIENDSHIP

The little dwelling in which we lived was of clay, but the
door-posts were columns of fluted marble, found near the spot on which
it stood. The roof sloped nearly to the ground. It was at this time
dark, brown, and ugly, but had originally been formed of blooming
olive and laurel branches, brought from beyond the mountains. The
house was situated in a narrow gorge, whose rocky walls rose to a
perpendicular height, naked and black, while round their summits
clouds often hung, looking like white living figures. Not a singing
bird was ever heard there, neither did men dance to the sound of the
pipe. The spot was one sacred to olden times; even its name recalled a
memory of the days when it was called "Delphi. " Then the summits of
the dark, sacred mountains were covered with snow, and the highest,
mount Parnassus, glowed longest in the red evening light. The brook
which rolled from it near our house, was also sacred. How well I can
remember every spot in that deep, sacred solitude! A fire had been
kindled in the midst of the hut, and while the hot ashes lay there red
and glowing, the bread was baked in them. At times the snow would be
piled so high around our hut as almost to hide it, and then my
mother appeared most cheerful. She would hold my head between her
hands, and sing the songs she never sang at other times, for the
Turks, our masters, would not allow it. She sang,--

"On the summit of mount Olympus, in a forest of dwarf firs, lay an
old stag. His eyes were heavy with tears, and glittering with colors
like dewdrops; and there came by a roebuck, and said, 'What ailest
thee, that thou weepest blue and red tears? ' And the stag answered,
'The Turk has come to our city; he has wild dogs for the chase, a
goodly pack. ' 'I will drive them away across the islands! ' cried the
young roebuck; 'I will drive them away across the islands into the
deep sea. ' But before evening the roebuck was slain, and before
night the hunted stag was dead. "

And when my mother sang thus, her eyes would become moist; and
on the long eyelashes were tears, but she concealed them and watched
the black bread baking in the ashes. Then I would clench my fist,
and cry, "We will kill these Turks! " But she repeated the words of the
song, "I will drive them across the islands to the deep sea; but
before evening came the roebuck was slain, and before the night the
hunted stag was dead. "

We had been lonely in our hut for several days and nights when
my father came home. I knew he would bring me some shells from the
gulf of Lepanto, or perhaps a knife with a shining blade. This time he
brought, under his sheep-skin cloak, a little child, a little
half-naked girl. She was wrapped in a fur; but when this was taken
off, and she lay in my mother's lap, three silver coins were found
fastened in her dark hair; they were all her possessions. My father
told us that the child's parents had been killed by the Turks, and
he talked so much about them that I dreamed of Turks all night. He
himself had been wounded, and my mother bound up his arm. It was a
deep wound, and the thick sheep-skin cloak was stiff with congealed
blood. The little maiden was to be my sister. How pretty and bright
she looked: even my mother's eyes were not more gentle than hers.
Anastasia, as she was called, was to be my sister, because her
father had been united to mine by an old custom, which we still
follow. They had sworn brotherhood in their youth, and the most
beautiful and virtuous maiden in the neighborhood was chosen to
perform the act of consecration upon this bond of friendship. So now
this little girl was my sister. She sat in my lap, and I brought her
flowers, and feathers from the birds of the mountain. We drank
together of the waters of Parnassus, and dwelt for many years
beneath the laurel roof of the hut, while, winter after winter, my
mother sang her song of the stag who shed red tears. But as yet I
did not understand that the sorrows of my own countrymen were mirrored
in those tears.

One day there came to our hut Franks, men from a far country,
whose dress was different to ours. They had tents and beds with
them, carried by horses; and they were accompanied by more than twenty
Turks, all armed with swords and muskets. These Franks were friends of
the Pacha, and had letters from him, commanding an escort for them.
They only came to see our mountain, to ascend Parnassus amid the
snow and clouds, and to look at the strange black rocks which raised
their steep sides near our hut. They could not find room in the hut,
nor endure the smoke that rolled along the ceiling till it found its
way out at the low door; so they pitched their tents on a small
space outside our dwelling. Roasted lambs and birds were brought
forth, and strong, sweet wine, of which the Turks are forbidden to
partake.

When they departed, I accompanied them for some distance, carrying
my little sister Anastasia, wrapped in a goat-skin, on my back. One of
the Frankish gentlemen made me stand in front of a rock, and drew us
both as we stood there, so that we looked like one creature. I did not
think of it then, but Anastasia and I were really one. She was
always sitting on my lap, or riding in the goat-skin on my back; and
in my dreams she always appeared to me.

Two nights after this, other men, armed with knives and muskets,
came into our tent. They were Albanians, brave men, my mother told me.
They only stayed a short time. My sister Anastasia sat on the knee
of one of them; and when they were gone, she had not three, but two
silver coins in her hair--one had disappeared. They wrapped tobacco in
strips of paper, and smoked it; and I remember they were uncertain
as to the road they ought to take. But they were obliged to go at
last, and my father went with them. Soon after, we heard the sound
of firing. The noise continued, and presently soldiers rushed into our
hut, and took my mother and myself and Anastasia prisoners. They
declared that we had entertained robbers, and that my father had acted
as their guide, and therefore we must now go with them. The corpses of
the robbers, and my father's corpse, were brought into the hut. I
saw my poor dead father, and cried till I fell asleep. When I awoke, I
found myself in a prison; but the room was not worse than our own in
the hut. They gave me onions and musty wine from a tarred cask; but we
were not accustomed to much better fare at home. How long we were kept
in prison, I do not know; but many days and nights passed by. We
were set free about Easter-time. I carried Anastasia on my back, and
we walked very slowly; for my mother was very weak, and it is a long
way to the sea, to the Gulf of Lepanto.

On our arrival, we entered a church, in which there were beautiful
pictures in golden frames. They were pictures of angels, fair and
bright; and yet our little Anastasia looked equally beautiful, as it
seemed to me. In the centre of the floor stood a coffin filled with
roses. My mother told me it was the Lord Jesus Christ who was
represented by these roses. Then the priest announced, "Christ is
risen," and all the people greeted each other. Each one carried a
burning taper in his hand, and one was given to me, as well as to
little Anastasia. The music sounded, and the people left the church
hand-in-hand, with joy and gladness. Outside, the women were
roasting the paschal lamb. We were invited to partake; and as I sat by
the fire, a boy, older than myself, put his arms round my neck, and
kissed me, and said, "Christ is risen. " And thus it was that for the
first time I met Aphtanides.

My mother could make fishermen's nets, for which there was a great
demand here in the bay; and we lived a long time by the side of the
sea, the beautiful sea, that had a taste like tears, and in its colors
reminded me of the stag that wept red tears; for sometimes its
waters were red, and sometimes green or blue. Aphtanides knew how to
manage our boat, and I often sat in it, with my little Anastasia,
while it glided on through the water, swift as a bird flying through
the air. Then, when the sun set, how beautifully, deeply blue, would
be the tint on the mountains, one rising above the other in the far
distance, and the summit of mount Parnassus rising above them all like
a glorious crown. Its top glittered in the evening rays like molten
gold, and it seemed as if the light came from within it; for long
after the sun had sunk beneath the horizon, the mountain-top would
glow in the clear, blue sky. The white aquatic birds skimmed the
surface of the water in their flight, and all was calm and still as
amid the black rocks at Delphi. I lay on my back in the boat,
Anastasia leaned against me, while the stars above us glittered more
brightly than the lamps in our church. They were the same stars, and
in the same position over me as when I used to sit in front of our hut
at Delphi, and I had almost begun to fancy I was still there, when
suddenly there was a splash in the water--Anastasia had fallen in; but
in a moment Aphtanides has sprung in after her, and was now holding
her up to me. We dried her clothes as well as we were able, and
remained on the water till they were dry; for we did not wish it to be
known what a fright we had had, nor the danger which our little
adopted sister had incurred, in whose life Aphtanides had now a part.

The summer came, and the burning heat of the sun tinted the leaves
of the trees with lines of gold. I thought of our cool mountain-home,
and the fresh water that flowed near it; my mother, too, longed
for if, and one evening we wandered towards home. How peaceful
and silent it was as we walked on through the thick, wild thyme,
still fragrant, though the sun had scorched the leaves. Not a
single herdsman did we meet, not a solitary hut did we pass;
everything appeared lonely and deserted--only a shooting star showed
that in the heavens there was yet life. I know not whether the
clear, blue atmosphere gleamed with its own light, or if the
radiance came from the stars; but we could distinguish quite plainly
the outline of the mountains. My mother lighted a fire, and roasted
some roots she had brought with her, and I and my little sister
slept among the bushes, without fear of the ugly smidraki, from
whose throat issues fire, or of the wolf and the jackal; for my mother
sat by us, and I considered her presence sufficient protection.

We reached our old home; but the cottage was in ruins, and we
had to build a new one. With the aid of some neighbors, chiefly women,
the walls were in a few days erected, and very soon covered with a
roof of olive-branches. My mother obtained a living by making
bottle-cases of bark and skins, and I kept the sheep belonging to
the priests, who were sometimes peasants, while I had for my
playfellows Anastasia and the turtles.

Once our beloved Aphtanides paid us a visit. He said he had been
longing to see us so much; and he remained with us two whole happy
days. A month afterwards he came again to wish us good-bye, and
brought with him a large fish for my mother. He told us he was going
in a ship to Corfu and Patras, and could relate a great many
stories, not only about the fishermen who lived near the gulf of
Lepanto, but also of kings and heroes who had once possessed Greece,
just as the Turks possess it now.

I have seen a bud on a rose-bush gradually, in the course of a few
weeks, unfold its leaves till it became a rose in all its beauty; and,
before I was aware of it, I beheld it blooming in rosy loveliness. The
same thing had happened to Anastasia. Unnoticed by me, she had
gradually become a beautiful maiden, and I was now also a stout,
strong youth. The wolf-skins that covered the bed in which my mother
and Anastasia slept, had been taken from wolves which I had myself
shot.

Years had gone by when, one evening, Aphtanides came in. He had
grown tall and slender as a reed, with strong limbs, and a dark, brown
skin. He kissed us all, and had so much to tell of what he had seen of
the great ocean, of the fortifications at Malta, and of the marvellous
sepulchres of Egypt, that I looked up to him with a kind of
veneration. His stories were as strange as the legends of the
priests of olden times.

"How much you know! " I exclaimed, "and what wonders you can
relate? "

"I think what you once told me, the finest of all," he replied;
"you told me of a thing that has never been out of my thoughts--of the
good old custom of 'the bond of friendship,'--a custom I should like
to follow. Brother, let you and I go to church, as your father and
Anastasia's father once did. Your sister Anastasia is the most
beautiful and most innocent of maidens, and she shall consecrate the
deed. No people have such grand old customs as we Greeks. "

Anastasia blushed like a young rose, and my mother kissed
Aphtanides.

At about two miles from our cottage, where the earth on the hill
is sheltered by a few scattered trees, stood the little church, with a
silver lamp hanging before the altar. I put on my best clothes, and
the white tunic fell in graceful folds over my hips. The red jacket
fitted tight and close, the tassel on my Fez cap was of silver, and in
my girdle glittered a knife and my pistols. Aphtanides was clad in the
blue dress worn by the Greek sailors; on his breast hung a silver
medal with the figure of the Virgin Mary, and his scarf was as
costly as those worn by rich lords. Every one could see that we were
about to perform a solemn ceremony. When we entered the little,
unpretending church, the evening sunlight streamed through the open
door on the burning lamp, and glittered on the golden picture
frames. We knelt down together on the altar steps, and Anastasia
drew near and stood beside us. A long, white garment fell in
graceful folds over her delicate form, and on her white neck and bosom
hung a chain entwined with old and new coins, forming a kind of
collar. Her black hair was fastened into a knot, and confined by a
headdress formed of gold and silver coins which had been found in an
ancient temple. No Greek girl had more beautiful ornaments than these.
Her countenance glowed, and her eyes were like two stars. We all three
offered a silent prayer, and then she said to us, "Will you be friends
in life and in death? "

"Yes," we replied.

"Will you each remember to say, whatever may happen, 'My brother
is a part of myself; his secret is my secret, my happiness is his;
self-sacrifice, patience, everything belongs to me as they do to
him? '"

And we again answered, "Yes. " Then she joined out hands and kissed
us on the forehead, and we again prayed silently. After this a
priest came through a door near the altar, and blessed us all three.
Then a song was sung by other holy men behind the altar-screen, and
the bond of eternal friendship was confirmed. When we arose, I saw
my mother standing by the church door, weeping.

How cheerful everything seemed now in our little cottage by the
Delphian springs! On the evening before his departure, Aphtanides
sat thoughtfully beside me on the slopes of the mountain. His arm
was flung around me, and mine was round his neck. We spoke of the
sorrows of Greece, and of the men of the country who could be trusted.
Every thought of our souls lay clear before us. Presently I seized his
hand: "Aphtanides," I exclaimed, "there is one thing still that you
must know,--one thing that till now has been a secret between myself
and Heaven. My whole soul is filled with love,--with a love stronger
than the love I bear to my mother and to thee.

"And whom do you love? " asked Aphtanides. And his face and neck
grew red as fire.

"I love Anastasia," I replied.

Then his hand trembled in mine, and he became pale as a corpse.
I saw it, I understood the cause, and I believe my hand trembled
too. I bent towards him, I kissed his forehead, and whispered, "I have
never spoken of this to her, and perhaps she does not love me.
Brother, think of this; I have seen her daily, she has grown up beside
me, and has become a part of my soul. "

"And she shall be thine," he exclaimed; "thine! I may not wrong
thee, nor will I do so. I also love her, but tomorrow I depart. In a
year we will see each other again, but then you will be married; shall
it not be so? I have a little gold of my own, it shall be yours. You
must and shall take it. "

We wandered silently homeward across the mountains. It was late in
the evening when we reached my mother's door.