Read Ebook: The Yule Log: A Series of Stories for the Young by Bishop Georgianna M

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The Enchantress mused for a while, then suddenly recollecting herself, drew from her bosom a small box, formed of diamonds, which she held up before Kluma, while she said, "I think I can dispel your grief, though I cannot change your countenance. In this box there is a mist, formed of the purest dew by morning's earliest beam; it is so light and transparent that it can scarce be seen, and yet it forms a medium of such intensity and power, the very ugliest features seen through it become softened and harmonized. But listen! only around the face and form of the most patient and amiable, can it be held; the very slightest breath of anger, or malicious passion, will blow it away, never more to return." So saying, she opened the box, and out flew a light cloud, that floated over the countenance and form of Kluma, and the Enchantress holding up a mirror before her, revealed to her her face, shining resplendent through the diamond fleece. She saw the mild light beaming from her eyes, the lips around which played a heavenly smile, and the hair, meekly parted from the brow, "pure as an angel's." Kluma was almost transported, and turned to thank the Enchantress, for so long remembering, and so generously rewarding, a simple act of kindness. The little lady smiled on her, and said, "Go back to your home, but do not forget the conditions on which you keep your charms. Be patient and obedient, and all will yet prosper with you." And before Kluma could thank her again, she vanished.

Kluma reached her home at night, where she was told that her parents had given their commands that she should remain constantly in her room, and never expose herself to the risk of being seen by the Prince, who was as yet ignorant of her assistance. This was sad news to poor Kluma, and she began to despair of ever seeing the Prince again, as now matters were in progress for the marriage, which was soon to be celebrated between her sister and the prince, and they would probably depart ere she would be released. But she made no resistance, only followed the attendant who was instructed to lead her to imprisonment. As she passed through the hall, the servants were struck with wonder at the amazing change which had taken place in Kluma, and that she had become the most beautiful of the princesses. Day by day, as they attended her, they became accustomed to the change, and spoke of her among themselves, as if she had always been, as now, pre-eminent.

All this long time, for a month at least, Kluma had not seen her parents and sister , nor even had she caught a passing glimpse of the Prince, from whom they concealed all knowledge of her existence. The pains they took to accomplish their wishes, in this respect, was the very cause of bringing Kluma to his notice. One of the servants, in waiting on him, who, like all the rest, was attached to Kluma, and indignant at her being deprived of her liberty, let fall some hints one day that awakened the curiosity of the Prince, about the beautiful daughter of the King, who was confined in the palace, and, being urged, told the whole story of her wrongs, that it was Kluma and not Cerulia who had saved his life, and whose voice he so loved to hear. The Prince, enraged at the deceit that had been practised upon him, immediately sent for the King and Queen, and demanded that they should produce their other daughter, who was a prisoner in the palace, or he would leave their kingdom at once, and return home alone. They were very much alarmed, and tried to appease his wrath, by making a confession of the fraud that they had practised on him, but represented that it was on account of the perfect hideousness of Kluma, and that she was not even fit to be presented to him; but, as they had already deceived him, and the servant had expatiated largely on her great attractions, he persisted in his desire to see her. The Princess Cerulia, in a rage at the implied slight to herself, and thinking to mortify the Prince and Kluma at the same time, proposed that she should be sent for, and the King, thinking it the best mode of ending this importunity of the Prince, and of convincing him of the truth, consented to its being done. She was accordingly conducted, trembling and agitated, into their presence. The Princess Cerulia haughtily and triumphantly turned her eyes, first upon the Prince, then upon Kluma, when lo! she stood glowing before them, in unsurpassed loveliness. The King and Queen were no less amazed, not knowing how this wonderful change had been wrought. As for the Prince, he needed no second look to know that to this Princess his heart should be given. He thanked her for his life, which she had saved to him, and when she answered he knew the voice he had so longed to hear again. The King, seeing that there was still a hope of his claiming the Prince for his son-in-law, came forward, and tendered the hand of Kluma, which the Prince graciously accepted, as by this time he was completely captivated.

Words cannot describe the rage of the Princess Cerulia when she saw Kluma thus openly preferred to herself, and her mortification knew no bounds, when, after an imposing pageant, and bridal ceremony , she saw Kluma depart, as the bride of the Prince Talyon, to the kingdom of his father, to which he was heir, and where they lived in happiness many long years; and Kluma still grew more lovely in the eyes of her husband, for the mist was never dissipated as long as she lived, by the rude breath of anger or malice.

THE RICH PERSIAN AND THE STATUE.

There was once a rich Persian, named Bolamah, whose father had left him in possession of such vast amounts of treasure that he exceeded even the greatest Princes of the country in wealth. Bolamah had a splendid palace, full of all that could delight the senses, and furnish food for the mind; such statuary and rich paintings was never before seen; such magnificent gardens, grottoes and fountains; beside this, he was exceedingly handsome in person and accomplished in mind and manners. Of course, he was surrounded by flatterers, who paid court to him, because, in return, he heaped benefits upon them, and, so accustomed was he to praise, that insensibly it became necessary to his happiness, and those who were most fulsome in their adulation were the surest of gaining his favor.

Cobez knew if he could gain the reward that Bolamah offered it would make him rich as he desired for the rest of his life; he could then marry his little Manilla, and make sure that she was his own; and he felt that he could never rest easy till this was done, for she was beset by all the neighboring swains; and, though she had given him her troth, he could not help feeling anxious and uneasy when others, richer than himself, were pressing their suits with such ardor. Cobez, therefore, sought earnestly to find out some woman to present to Bolamah, and one fine morning, setting out on a journey, he resolved not to come back till he had accomplished his object. After having been gone for a long time, and hearing of many whom he thought would be likely to please, but, on searching them out, finding himself always disappointed, he one day heard of a very beautiful woman, of whose voice such wonders were told that he determined to hear her for himself; accordingly he travelled to the place where this singing bird , resided. He found her with a crowd about her, who were listening breathlessly while she poured forth from her swelling throat such a melody that poor Cobez sat down overpowered and listened, forgetting for the time his errand, Bolamah, Manilla, everything, so completely was his soul ravished from him. When she had ceased he recovered himself enough to perceive that she was as finely formed and handsome a woman as one could wish to see, and he felt sure, if Bolamah could only hear her sing, he would marry her at once, and thus have her where he could always be listening to the music of her voice.

He found no great trouble in persuading Natinga to go with him. She was poor, and, like her sex, fond of luxury and splendor, and Cobez had not been behindhand in picturing the brilliant future that lay before her, if she would leave her home and follow him. She bade adieu to her parents and friends, and set off with Cobez, but in parting felt sorrowful enough, as she remembered how proud they all had been of her; but when, after three days, she came in sight of a stately palace, and Cobez told her that, in all probability, it would be her future home, she banished her regrets, and bore herself through the gateway, on her camel, with as proud an air as a queen about to receive the homage of her subjects. Bolamah met them at the door, and conducted them to the apartments that he had appropriated to the use of his future wife. "Here," thought Natinga, "one can but be happy." And no wonder she thought so, for everything a woman could fancy or desire was there; the softest carpets, in which the feet sank as into mossy turf; couches of velvet and down; fountains, with gay birds dipping their tiny beaks into the spray; flowers, whose odors almost palled on the senses by their richness. Poor Natinga was at first bewildered, and Cobez feared she would not be collected enough to do her best before Bolamah at night, which he had appointed as the time when he should first listen to her music. But at evening, seated on a balcony overlooking a scene of beauty, made visible by the moonlight, she was so excited and inspired that she poured forth, as if from her very soul, such notes as Cobez had never heard from her before. Bolamah, completely ravished, declared passionately that this was the woman of all others to be his chosen companion; and the hearts of the three that evening were full of joy: Bolamah, at having such a lovely and accomplished being for his bride, Natinga, with her new-found splendor, and Cobez, that he had gained the reward that was to do so much for him. Bolamah was so proud of Natinga and her genius that he sent invitations to all the wealthy gentlemen of distinction, with their families, to come to a great feast that he was preparing, and which was to last for a whole month, and terminate with his marriage. He caused a sort of throne to be erected for himself and Natinga at the end of a splendid hall, or court, where, with a harp of gold in her hand, she performed and sang before the assembly, who were in raptures. Their applause at first pleased Bolamah, but he soon found that he was cast into the shade by the superiority of Natinga; that when he took the harp his own performance did not please even himself, and only called forth such meager applause as the politeness of his guests forced from them. And, day by day, as they became more charmed with Natinga's music, and poured forth the flattery at her shrine that he had been wont to receive himself, he grew more disquieted, and laid the consequences of his own vanity to the account of poor Natinga. He began to fancy that her music was harsh and discordant, that it grated upon his ear, and he grew sullen and ill-humored towards her, while she, poor thing, never imagining the cause of his unhappiness, went on trying to please him by even outdoing herself, which, of course, only rendered her the more odious to him.

At last his distaste became so evident that Cobez perceived something was wrong, and shortly after, Bolamah told him that he must take her out of his sight, and endeavor to procure for him a wife whose tastes should better accord with his own. Cobez was very sorry to hear this, indeed much more grieved than Natinga herself, when she came to be told of it, for her life had latterly been made so unpleasant, by Bolamah's harshness, she was only too glad to be permitted to go back again to the kind friends who had been so proud of her, more especially so, as Bolamah in his anxiety to get rid of her, had to make amends to her for her disappointment, by loading her with valuable presents, and graciously bidding her farewell.

Cobez conducted her again to her native place, where the whole town, when they heard that she was returning to them, came out to receive her, and carried her triumphantly to her own little home--to her parents, where her song was soon heard "ringing up the sky," as would a wild bird's, who had been confined in a golden cage, when it felt itself free, and again in the little nest of its infancy.

While Cobez was rather sadly returning, leading the gaily housed animal which had borne Natinga to her home, all his fine schemes having fallen to the ground by this sudden change in the mind of Bolamah, he saw before him a company of ladies and gentlemen to whom he wished to join himself, as the road was infested with robbers, who were apt to molest single travellers; he rode up, and asked to go along with them, to which they gladly gave their consent. He found that they were going to look at some paintings in a town not far off, which were said to be the most beautiful in the world. Cobez resolved to go with them, and secure the choicest for Bolamah's palace. They entered a gallery where they were on exhibition, and Cobez felt sure that they surpassed anything that he had ever seen, although he had made a collection in the palace of all that were the most celebrated; and on asking to see the artist, he was very much astonished when a female presented herself, a lovely woman, with a pure Grecian face and form, mild brown eyes and hair, whose smooth braids were folded classically around her forehead. Krayona had a gentleness of manner, that indicated a pliable disposition. Cobez instantly said to himself, What if I should induce this lady to accompany me home; Bolamah, who paints so well himself, would surely enjoy having his wife in possession of the same talent. Dear me, were I like Bolamah, able to marry, I should not be so long in making a choice; but such a poor ignorant thing as Manilla would not suit Bolamah. She cannot sing or paint, or do anything clever, but her laugh is music enough for me, and her little fingers twirl the thread she spins so prettily, and her small feet go dancing along with such a graceful lightness, that she is more charming to me than the most accomplished lady in the land. But if I do not succeed in getting the reward, what will all her prettiness avail me; I shall be too poor to marry her; so at a venture I will take Krayona, and see if she will not please Bolamah better than Natinga has done. Krayona did not refuse the honor of becoming a candidate, as the wife of the wealthiest gentleman in Persia, when Cobez represented to her that he was in favor of her accompanying him. So one morning saw her on the camel, that had borne Natinga in a contrary direction, and with her choicest paintings in a caravan behind, journeying over a delightful country, toward the palace of Bolamah. They reached it as sunset was gilding its walls with its gorgeous floods of light. They entered the palace quietly, and Krayona, without being announced, was conducted by Cobez to his own apartments, and the next day, when he and Bolamah were alone together, he told him of Krayona, and caused the finest of her works to be shown to him, which Bolamah so admired that he greatly desired to see the artist. Her modest address and mild beauty so charmed him, that he directly desired that she should be made mistress of the apartments that Natinga had formerly occupied, and have free access to his galleries of painting and statuary, to gratify her favorite tastes. She was almost beside herself in the midst of these works of art, and with Bolamah, spent most of her time there, copying from the old masters, or out amid the beautiful works of nature, sketching beside him. Now, Cobez thought his patron would be satisfied, and all would go well again; but he found that it was not so. Bolamah had caused Krayona's paintings to be hung beside his own, and on first seeing them together, was excessively mortified, to behold what a sorry appearance his own made beside them; and when he saw that all eyes, after glancing at his, instantly returned to those of Krayona, he began to be as jealous of her as he before had been of Natinga, and to wish her as heartily out of his sight. Krayona was too much occupied with her art to notice the change in Bolamah; but Cobez, who watched him closely, soon detected it, and made up his mind that as Bolamah was so fickle, it would be almost impossible to fix him in his choice, and he felt no surprise when Bolamah instructed him to make presents to Krayona, as he had done to Natinga, and convey her away in the same manner. All which he did; and Krayona, without a word of complaint, left her grandeur, and returned to her former station, happy and contented.

Now about this time, travelers from the eastern part of Persia came through the country where Bolamah dwelt, and gave their testimony to the genius of a bright star in poetry that had arisen in that land; her fame was so noised abroad as to rivet the ears of Cobez and Bolamah, who, from time to time conversed upon the various reports of her that came to them, and at last, so much was he interested, Cobez was directed to find her out, and if possible, to bring her to the palace. After much seeking, he obtained an entrance into her presence, where she was surrounded with auditors, before whom she was reciting her stanzas. He thought her a glorious creature, with her black hair streaming wildly, and her eyes of fire, her low broad brow, and cheek pale, excepting as it was lit by the flash of genius. She needed the most glowing descriptions from Cobez of Bolamah's riches and power, to induce her to consent to go with him; but he succeeded at last; and after a journey, the most trying to Cobez, they came to a point where a cavalcade, sent out by Bolamah, to welcome his chosen bride to her home, was waiting to meet them. Bolamah himself came many miles in state, to receive one so distinguished, and they conducted her with ceremony into the palace, where everything had been put in order to welcome her. It took her several days to recover the fatigues of her journey, and all the while Bolamah was waiting impatiently to converse with her, and to hear her poetry. At last she gave out that she would meet him with his friends in the great hall, and recite to him her poetry. In the evening she was inducted into the seat that Natinga had occupied, when she sang before them, and with Bolamah beside her, she commenced a wild rhapsody, then swelling to a lofty strain, she told of the battle raging high, till the warriors would place their hands upon their swords, and breathe forth fire; then her voice and words would soothe, till they sank back and listened, while she poured a tale of love; then she would melt them to tears with her pathetic lay, till they hushed their very breaths to hear her. Bolamah was at first carried along with the tide, and praised and admired as well as others; but the next day, alone with Hersala, when he commenced repeating to her some of his own poetry, he found first that she was yawning wearily, and then, that she was fast asleep. He discovered, too, that one who had been so constantly flattered as Hersala, like himself, needed the excitement of praise, and that after these fits of inspiration, she was more than usually dull; that her temper was not as mild as that of Natinga, or Krayona, and that the wild passion she expressed, sometimes moved her own bosom to a storm.

If he had been jealous of Natinga and Krayona, he might well be of Hersala, for she so wrought upon the minds of all, the very scullions in the kitchen were repeating her words or singing her songs; and so greatly was she adored, that a crowd followed her footsteps, and Bolamah, of so much importance before, sank into insignificance beside her. He became at last so mad with jealousy, that he dismissed her suddenly, and she, in a rage at his treatment, wrote verses on Bolamah, and placed his foibles in such a ludicrous light, that he was so mortified at the time as to declare he would no more allow a female to become a candidate for the honor of being his wife, and that he would remain unmarried to the end of his days.

Cobez, who had been near getting into disgrace himself by his repeated failures, began now to have an inkling of the true state of the case. He now understood that Bolamah would not be satisfied with a wife who was constantly casting him, her lord, into the shade by her superiority; that a companion, to please him, must be content to be his humble admirer, and that, if he ever obtained the reward, it must be by the greatest caution and skillfulness on his own part. Now Cobez had an intimate friend called Meldon, a cunning sculptor, who carried his art to the highest degree of perfection. In his perplexity to Meldon Cobez went, and told him all about Bolamah, and of his unsuccessful attempts to satisfy him, and of his own desire to make Menilla his wife, and then promised him half the reward, if he would devise and assist him in carrying out some plan to fulfill his wishes. This Meldon consented to do, and on putting their heads together, concocted a scheme so much to their satisfaction that they proceeded at once to execute it. Meldon set himself to work, and made the perfect image of a woman; it was tall, and of the most symmetrical proportions. He moulded the features so perfectly, they had the form and the very expression of life; the eyes were of the darkest hazel, soft and varying in their light; the hair, silken, glossy, and black as the wing of a raven, fell over shoulders of marble whiteness, round and polished; her bosom was made to rise and fall with the breath that he breathed from his own lips into hers; her arms dazzled one to look upon them, and the taper fingers of the slender hand were taught to move gracefully over the strings of a harp; her brows were black, and arched like a bow, her lashes long and dark. It could move its limbs, and walk about with grace and dignity, unclose the lips, smile sweetly, and softly murmur, "Beautiful! Beautiful!" When it was completed, they arrayed it in queenly robes. When Cobez saw it finished, he was so delighted with the beautiful image, he was tempted to forget Menilla forever, and throw himself at its feet; but he presently thought of the little warm heart that was beating beneath her bosom, and felt that she was ten times dearer to him than this stately, cold beauty. They gave the image the name of Fauna, and set to work to plan how to bring her to the notice of Bolamah. So they contrived at last that Cobez should represent to him that a great lady had come from far to view his splendid palace; and having obtained Bolamah's consent to its being exhibited to her by them, they timed their visit so well as to meet Bolamah at the door as they were alighting from their chariot. Bolamah, who had so long been distinguished for his high breeding, could not allow such a magnificent lady, like a queen in her mien and dress, to pass him without the ordinary expressions of politeness. He therefore returned her graceful salutation, and gave her his arm, and with a step as calm and measured as her own, traversed with her the walks and apartments of the grounds and of the palace. Everything met her approbation. Did he show her his gardens, his paintings, or take up his lute and sing, still the sweet smile hovered around her mouth, and the words, "Beautiful! Beautiful!" were murmured from her lips, till at last Bolamah, who could no longer resist her beauty, her grace, and, above all, her appreciation of himself, fell at her feet, telling her that she of all should be the chosen one who was to share his palace and his heart; and Fauna only drooped her proud head a little lower, and still murmured softly, "Beautiful! Beautiful!" till Bolamah was quite overcome with her dignity and sweet compliance to his wishes. Cobez was in transports when he found his plan had worked so admirably. Fauna was now the constant and approved companion of Bolamah; he never was willing to have her away from him a moment, and preparations for the marriage were put forward with haste, to the great joy of Cobez, who was convinced that Bolamah was now in earnest. At last all was in readiness, and the marriage took place, at which Fauna comported herself with such dignity as to win the approbation of Bolamah and the admiration of all that looked upon her; and when she was installed as mistress of the palace, her bearing toward the guests was so queenly, yet condescending, that even the ladies, who are apt to be jealous of their own sex, declared her the most fascinating woman in the universe.

So pleased was Bolamah with Fauna, that he doubled the reward that he had offered to Cobez, because he had been the means of bringing to his notice one who was so charming, and of procuring him so much happiness. This money Cobez divided with his friend Meldon, through whose skill he had been able to obtain it, and with part of their money they purchased two cottages; and when Cobez had married Menilla, and had a family about him, Meldon was godfather to his children, and his favorite, called after him, bade fair to equal him in skill in the art which Meldon loved.

Cobez and Menilla lived very happily together--; but when Menilla was a little capricious and wayward, Cobez only said to Meldon, "There, she shows her flesh and blood, and her warm heart," and he never thought of envying Bolamah and Fauna in the unvarying calmness of their life.

THE ROSE AND THE LILY.

Amid a garden of flowers the queen Rose and the queen Lily stood pre-eminent; but they, like all beauties, were extremely jealous of each other, and were not willing to divide the palm between them, but each one was anxious to be acknowledged as the "flower of the flowers." Knowing the foibles of the two rival ladies, an old orange-tree sought to ingratiate himself into the favor of both by alternately flattering them in private, and laughing at the ridiculous pretensions of the one to the other, whispering to each that her charms could not be surpassed; and then the false old fellow used to entertain his friend, the oleander, who was not a lady's man at all, with stories of the vanity of the two queens, and of the lucky strokes of flattery which had told so well on his susceptible listeners. But he soon found that his sincerity was going to be put to the test, for these partisans could no longer conceal their rivalry; so the Rose openly threw down the gauntlet to the Lily, and called upon all the flowers of the garden to pronounce upon their respective merits, and to decide which should henceforward take the lead among them. The old orange-tree was chosen by the consent of both the queens to be the chief judge, each of them thinking that the umpire was enlisted in her favor, and thereby that they had the game in their own hands. Now, the old gallant did not wish to have anything to say in the matter, but, as they were both so solicitous, he could not refuse them with a very good grace; and, to put on the best face, he invited all the flowers of the garden to an entertainment, at which he gave out that the question was to be put for ever at rest.

When the queen Lily received her invitation she said to one of her fair maidens, "The presumption of that flaunting Rose deserves its punishment, and, were it not that she would be vain enough to suppose that I am afraid to show myself beside her, I would decline meeting her altogether; but she would feed her vanity upon my refusal, therefore I shall give my orders to all the family to adorn themselves, and be in readiness to attend me to-morrow at midnight."

The orange-tree spared neither labor nor expense in the preparations. A table was set out in a large arbor in the midst of the garden, with refreshments, and the walks were brilliantly illuminated by lamps which the glow-worms and the fire-flies furnished. A fine orchestra of birds was stationed on the top of the arbor, and long before midnight all were in readiness, and the orange-tree was awaiting, with the oleander beside him , the arrival of the guests. Many of the flowers came early, but the orchestra only struck up when the queen Rose approached; she was received with distinguished attention by the orange-tree, who presented her to the oleander. The ill-mannered old bachelor, instead of rising and leading her to a chair, merely nodded his head, and remained stiffly seated, much to the mortification of the orange-tree, whose own manners were polished, and very deferential to ladies, though I have no doubt that the oleander cared far more for them in his heart than the courtly, but rather deceptive, orange-tree.

The queen was dressed in her diamonds, and no one could blame her for the pride with which she looked around upon her attendants, who, blooming with youth and beauty, were filling the seats. There was the white rose , with her modest and unpretending manners; the damask, with her beautiful blush; and even the wild rose was there, and, as the queen observed to one of her intimates, "Though she had been brought up in the country, and not at all accustomed to fashionable society, there was a native grace about her, and a propriety of manner, which made her very presentable, owing, no doubt, to the good blood she had in her veins." The queen was very gracious to all, and only once did she seem at all disturbed, and that was when the little prude, the moss-rose, passed her, making such a show of her modesty, in pretending to hide her face under her veil, when she knew well enough she was only enhancing her charms by so doing; and presently, when the little beauty stole shyly into a corner, as if to get out of sight, every one said she was striving to captivate Monsieur de Yellow Rose, a gentleman who had travelled in foreign parts, and was by all odds the most desirable beau in the room. Her artifice must have succeeded, for they presently commenced a flirtation with each other that lasted the whole evening. Now a second flourish of trumpets by the orchestra heralded the approach of the Lilies, and at the sound there was quite a sensation among the Roses, who all shook up their perfumes, and seemed not a little fluttered. As for the queen Rose, she was quite agitated, and her color heightened as the queen Lily, with a splendid train, swept in with such a calm and undisturbed dignity. First after the queen came the water-lily, who wore a crown of gold on her head, and had sailed down from her home in her gondola. When the queen Rose caught sight of her she whispered, "What a shame it was for the Lily to make pretension that the water-lily was related to her family, when every one knew well enough there was no foundation for it, excepting the mere accident of their having the same family name." But her indignation went far beyond this when she saw the fleur-de-lis among the rest, and she cried, "This is unbearable; he is of a French family, not in any wise connected with her, who, I do not doubt, she urged so strongly to attend her that, with the good breeding and politeness for which his nation is so celebrated, he could not refuse."

But she need not have been so alarmed; the orange-tree knew too well what he was about to risk his standing with either of the ladies by siding with the other, so, after walking about among the company, and holding consultation with one and another, he at last gave the signal for the guests to gather round the table, and partake of the delicacies that were set before them. After their glasses had been filled he raised his voice, and proposed as a toast--"The Queen Rose and the Queen Lily;" and when they had drunk and lowered their glasses, he bowed to the rivals, and addressed them thus:--

"Ladies, when you compare one with the other you both do yourselves injustice. The charm of the Rose is her bloom and warmth--that of the Lily her exceeding fairness; both of you are pieces of perfection, but of different casts. Should you, Madam , attempt to attain the whiteness of the Lily, you would only succeed in dimming your natural brightness; and you , in striving to gain the glow of the Rose, would only mar your purity without reaching your desire. Be, therefore, content to shine resplendent each in the way that nature has marked out for you, and be not envious or displeased that another excels in a different way. Learn also that the Rose suffers nothing by a display of the perfection of the Lily, nor the Lily by being brought into comparison with the Rose, for the beauty of each will be only enhanced by the contrast."

The oleander and the other flowers all concurred in the sentiments expressed by the old orange-tree; and the ladies themselves, though at first they were both a little angry, and inclined to accuse the orange-tree with treachery, after a few moments' consideration, acknowledged the justice of the remarks just made, and the Rose came forward in a very frank manner and gave her hand to the Lily, who, on her part, received the concession with a graceful friendliness. After they had partaken of the delicacies, they left the table arm in arm, and thus promenaded for some time before the admiring gaze of the assembly; their attendants followed their example, and the Roses and Lilies, commingling instead of standing coldly apart, gave such a variety and animation to the scene that all declared there never had been so brilliant a fete in the garden as this. The oleander was so inspired by the scene that he quite melted from his apathetic state, and danced and laughed with the best, and invited the company, before they separated, to a banquet that he would prepare them the following week, and even engaged the orchestra in attendance to be present.

All parted with the greatest kindness and good feeling, and the amity thus commenced continued through their lives, and resulted in the mutual advantage of the queen Rose and the queen Lily.

THE GOLDEN CLOAK.

There once lived a King, who had reigned for many years over his kingdom, and with his Queen was idolized by his subjects. Only one thing was wanting to make his happiness complete. This was the want of an heir to his crown; and when, after a long period had elapsed, contrary to all expectations, a son was born to him, you may be sure there was great rejoicing throughout the land.

As the children grew older, Anjah, who was of a most generous and noble disposition, took Balzebar under his own particular care and guardianship, and thus prevented poor Balzebar from being harassed as he would have been by the ridicule of his more unthinking companions, who delighted in tormenting the poor soul, and in playing their tricks upon him. Balzebar in return became so attached to Prince Anjah, that he followed him about everywhere, as a dog might have done his master who was kind to him, and was never contented away from him. It was a curious sight to see the tall and finely-formed Anjah followed everywhere by this little stunted and ugly dwarf.

When the Prince had reached his eighteenth year, in accordance with the custom of that time, he was sent to a foreign country, where learning and the arts were in an advanced state, to be educated. All the young men, his followers, accompanied him, even Balzebar; for though the King and his ministers had at first decided that he should remain at home, fearing that the constant appearance of such an inferior personage in his train might be prejudicial to the dignity of the young Prince, yet, at the earnest solicitation of Anjah , he was permitted to depart with them. A fine vessel had been put in order for their use, and with a band of music the Prince and his retinue were escorted to the place where it was in waiting. Great crowds were collected on the shore, and the loud huzzas of the populace drowned the swelling notes of the trumpet as their Prince, with his white plumes floating to the wind, stepped on board the ship; but they could scarcely restrain a yell of contempt and derisive laughter as the little hump-backed mute followed after him up the plank with the agility of a monkey. Two and two the others embarked, and the young men stood on the upper deck together as the vessel moved off, and waved their adieus, till at last the helmet with the snowy plumes, which was the distinguishing mark of the Prince, could no longer be seen.

Anjah felt grieved at parting with his parents, and as his father was quite an old man, he thought it very probable that he should never see him again, for he was to remain five long years away from home; and the tears, in spite of his efforts, started forth as he saw the King watching the receding vessel, and knew what a pang his heart was suffering in thus separating from his child, the pride of his old age. But when distance shut from his sight the land and all familiar objects, the world seemed as it were opening before him, full of bright promise; he forgot his sorrow, and as the bark bounded lightly over the billows, his heart danced within him, buoyant with hope and pleasure. After a short and prosperous voyage, they came in view of the beautiful land which was their destination. They were received by the King of the country with distinguished honor, befitting their rank and importance. This King was reputed to be as wise as Solomon, and had collected to his court all the learned men of the world; and hither were sent the youth of high rank from all nations, to learn wisdom of these sages. But their parents would have done well to have kept them at home out of harm's way, for the high-spirited young men who flocked to this Temple of Minerva thought their own wisdom far superior to that of the sages, and held all their acquirements in very light esteem; and if they learned anything at all, it was the knowledge which experience gives, which, to be sure, is the very best sort of lore, but which they might have acquired just as perfectly anywhere else.

Anjah had not been long there before he became initiated into the secret that Merea, the King's daughter, was the most beautiful Princess in the world, and he pondered much more deeply on this fact than on the philosophy of the schools, and he strove with much greater assiduity to be the successful candidate for her heart and hand than for the prizes offered to the victorious scholar, or the laurel wreath of the poet. As he was far handsomer than all her other suitors, he had very little difficulty in gaining the young maiden's particular and approving notice. His agreeable manners became a certain passport to her favor, and she so honored him above the rest, that Anjah, conscious of victory, assumed rather a high and triumphant air among those who were, like himself, captivated with the King's charming daughter. He spent all his leisure time in her company, and did not rest easy till he had obtained her father's permission to address his daughter, which he found little difficulty in gaining, for the King "as wise as Solomon," saw very plainly that no more noble son-in-law would ever be likely to present himself. After Anjah had conversed with Merea, and found the maiden already won, he sent to seek his father's consent to his betrothal to her, as the fame of her excellence and beauty had reached him. The King, his father, could think of no more suitable consort for his son than a Princess so charming and of such a high rank, so, sending his approval and blessing to his son, Anjah and Merea were publicly betrothed. Then, and not till then, Anjah applied himself sedulously to the study of the sciences which should fit him for governing a kingdom, and filling with dignity the exalted station to which Providence had destined him.

Three years passed away, and Anjah's improvement in mind did honor to his teachers, and to his own perseverance and capacity; two years more, and the allotted time of his exile, would be fulfilled, and he was looking forward to the time when he should return with his bride to his native land, when a hasty summons came, commanding him to speed his departure, as his father was lying at the point of death, and longed once more to see his son alive. Anjah delayed not a moment to obey the call, though his heart was full of conflicting emotions--sorrow at being obliged to leave his betrothed, mingled with anxiety to see his father once more; and bidding adieu to the many friends that his kindness and affability had won, he went with his followers down to the vessel, which had been sent to convey him home, accompanied by the King, the Princess Merea, and all their retinue. The King, in bidding him farewell, pronounced a blessing, and conferred on him many valuable presents as marks of his favor; but the Princess, when she parted with him, gave him only one keepsake, but that was of surpassing richness; it was a cloak of beaten gold, curiously wrought, of the purest metal, so elastic and pliable that it fell like a mantle over his shoulders; she clasped it with her own hands about his neck, and then by signs bade Balzebar, who stood beside them, to make it his especial care, so that Anjah should not lose or be robbed of it.

In the time of their sojourn in this country, Balzebar had attached himself more than ever to Anjah; and Merea, who had petted him, on account of his attachment to the Prince, was looked upon by the dwarf as almost as great a paragon as his master,--indeed, an angel of goodness. She became so associated in his mind with the Prince Anjah, that he was ever eager to do her bidding, and promised to take care of the cloak, and suffer no one to take it away; then giving Prince Anjah her last adieu, Merea departed with her father. Anjah assuring her that he would return as speedily as possible, and make her his wife. When the vessel was out at sea, Anjah and his companions remained on deck, pacing up and down, or looking pensively at the receding shore, thinking of the kind and fair ones that they had left behind, and wishing themselves back again, all but the poor mute, Balzebar, who sat watching Anjah, with his cloak glittering in the sun, and the white plumes of the golden helmet, which he always wore, fluttering in the breeze. His dull eyes were half dazzled by the light which was reflected on this shining mantle, and he opened and shut them as if basking in the radiance. When night came, and the Prince had divested himself of his golden helmet, with the white plumes, and the golden cloak, Balzebar put them carefully away, in a box which had been prepared for the purpose, and then placing it under his head, for a pillow, slept, as he always did, like a great dog at the feet of Prince Anjah.

About midnight, they were awakened by a terrible noise; it was thunder, mingling with the roaring of the sea. While they had been sleeping, a most terrific storm had arisen, and bidding Balzebar follow him, Anjah rushed on deck. The elements were in a perfect fury, the ship was tossed wildly about on the summit of the waves, and seemed as if going to pieces with the strain. Just then there came the cry that the vessel had sprung a leak, and a boat was hastily let down, into which the Prince and his companions were hurried. Beside the Prince on deck, gazing on all with wonder and dismay, Balzebar had stood, till seeing Anjah descend into the boat, and beckon to himself, he disappeared. Vainly they called him; he could not hear their cries nor answer them. Fearful for their own safety, none of the crew would venture in search of him, and being all in the boat, they pushed off lest they might be swamped beneath the vessel, and were far away before Anjah discovered that Balzebar was not among them. To return for him was beyond all human power. When morning light appeared, the storm had calmed, yet no trace of the vessel could be seen. So they concluded that the ship had sunk, and that poor Balzebar had made his grave ere now in the ocean's depths. With great exertions, they managed to bend the course of the boat in the same direction whence they came, and after almost incredible toils and dangers, were driven by the wind so near the shore, as to be picked up by a vessel bound for the port, and carried safely to land, where they were welcomed by the King and the Princess Merea, and with as great rejoicing as if they had been restored again from the dead. And now Anjah and Merea seemed doubly dear to each other, and she mourned with him over the supposed fate of the poor harmless and faithful Balzebar. But let us leave the Prince in the kind keeping of the King and Princess, while we see what was in reality become of the lost Balzebar.

When the Prince descended into the boat, and made signs to Balzebar to follow him, the first impulse of the dwarf was to obey his master; but, remembering the box which contained the royal helmet, and the golden cloak, he ran below to secure it. It took him a long time to find his way to the berth, on account of the darkness and the motion of the vessel, and when at last he reached the deck, the boat had gone far away, out of his sight. Not knowing what to do, he sat down in his despair, and fearing every moment that he should be washed overboard by the waves, made preparations to lash himself on to the masts; but ere he did this, to prevent the loss of that, which to his poor, weak mind, was of far more importance than his own life, the golden cloak and the royal helmet and plumes, he placed the latter upon his head, and bound it firmly on; and then taking the cloak out of its folds, fastened it securely round his own neck; it was intended to cover the shoulders, and fall to the knees of Anjah; but it sufficed to envelop the whole form of the dwarf, even to his very feet; and now with this rich shroud about him, he lashed himself to the mast, just in time to be saved from an impending death; for very soon the vessel divided asunder, and the drifting wreck to which Balzebar was attached, was tossed about at the mercy of the waves. How long he remained in this position he knew not; he became insensible from hunger and cold, and would no doubt have soon perished had not some sailors on a vessel espied a glittering object at a distance. They came nearer to it, and discovered that it was a human being clinging to the masts of a ship; and rescuing him from his perilous situation, and seeing the royal garb in which he was arrayed, they conceived that he was some great prince, and treated him in a manner that accorded with such a supposition. He was taken on board the ship, and all treated him with the respect and deference to which his seeming high rank entitled him. When he reached the shore, a proclamation was issued, that a great prince had been found shipwrecked, and had been rescued in his royal robes; his person was also described as being as imposing and grand as were his habiliments, and notwithstanding that he was unable to speak one word, or make any intelligible sound, but kept up a disagreeable sort of muttering, no one seemed to discover that he was at all wanting in intellect, and the proclamation went on and stated his mind and accomplishments to be equal to his person. It was only necessary for him to make his appearance with his golden cloak about him, and the helmet with the white plumes on his head, to have a crowd of adorers follow in his pathway with shouts and huzzas.

Indeed, such was their adulation, that they bore him about in a sort of triumphal car, and he became the people's idol. The little sense that Balzebar had ever been blessed with, had nearly all been lost in the hardships and dangers to which he had been exposed, and he allowed himself to be borne about, pleased as a child might have been with a pageant, in which he himself was the principal object.

At last the account of the finding of this wonderful prince in the golden cloak was read at the court, which had long been awaiting the return of Anjah and his suite, and when his fine person, and the helmet with the snowy plumes, were described, his subjects and friends, of course, felt very sure that it was no other than their own prince, and, as the country was not far distant, a cavalcade was dispatched to make certain of the truth, and to attend him to his home. The King was not yet dead, but illness had so impaired his intellect that he had become perfectly imbecile and unfit to govern, and, in the absence of any acknowledged head, the affairs of the State were getting into sad confusion. When the messengers arrived, and were shown into the presence of Balzebar, although at first surprised to find that he could not speak one word to them, yet the moment he arose and displayed his glittering cloak before their eyes they felt ready to fall down at his feet, and acknowledge him their prince. Besides, the royal helmet and the white plumes, would, of itself, have been sufficient to convince them, if there had been no other proof; so, sending a herald before them with the joyful news that it was indeed the long-absent one, they prepared to escort him to his kingdom. The Queen could not leave the palace, on account of the weak state of the King, her husband, but the prime minister and all the courtiers, with crowds of the common people, went to the very outskirts of the kingdom to meet the Prince, and, sending her love and kind messages by him, the Queen sat herself down to await as patiently as possible the arrival of her son. When the prime minister was shown into the presence of Balzebar he started back in astonishment, "Could this be Prince Anjah, this stunted being?" yet here truly was his helmet and his snowy plumes, and then here, too, was his cloak of gold with which the rest of the courtiers were so blinded that they never thought for a moment of doubting that this was their prince indeed, but were as loud and instant in praise of his fine person and noble mien as all others had been before them. Disgusted with their shortsightedness, the prime minister, who was wiser than the rest, and never for a moment supposed that a noble youth like Anjah could have become this deformed and withered thing, whose ugliness no cloak of gold could conceal from him, turned to address the unconscious cause of so much error; instead of an answer came a low, indistinct muttering and mystical signs. The truth flashed upon the mind of the prime minister--this was Balzebar, the poor little idiot mute, and, peering beneath the helmet, which, with the plumes, concealed his countenance, almost as much as the golden cloak did his person, recognised the dull, unmeaning eyes and the expressionless mouth of the poor dwarf. Keeping his discovery in his own breast, and pretending to share in the delusion of the rest, he prepared to join in the procession which was to attend Balzebar to the palace, but, before reaching the gates of the city, under pretence of hastening home to prepare for the better reception of the Prince, he obtained leave to arrive at the palace before the rest, in reality to reveal his discovery to the Queen, and to prepare her mind for the great disappointment that she must feel, in not being able to welcome her son to his home. She wept bitter tears when he told his tale, and she thought of the probable fate of Anjah; but she was a high-souled woman, and bore herself in her misfortunes like a queen. She agreed with the minister that it was far better to encourage the infatuation of the people till such time as the fate of Anjah should be decided, than to allow a person of more energy and address to get the present possession of the throne, from whom it would be impossible to wrest it, if he should still be alive. But their consultation was interrupted by the noisy shouts from without, which warned her of the approach of the procession. She instantly recognised Balzebar, whom she received as if he were indeed her son, and he was installed at once in the Prince's apartments in the palace, where all did him homage; and as, day by day, he used to show himself in his golden cloak on the balconies, his subjects became more enthusiastic than ever, and would greet him with shouts that rent the very skies. Preparations were immediately made for the ceremony of the coronation of the Prince , which, owing to the liberality of the people, who loved to honor their idol, was to be on a larger scale than any ever before known, and the whole kingdom seemed united in a desire to do homage to so great a prince.

About this time one morning a vessel hove in sight, and was spoken, and from the replies it was gathered that in it was the Prince Anjah, with his bride the Princess Merea; that the former had been shipwrecked, and was now returning, with all his train, to his native land. The news spread like wild-fire; great crowds came down to see the vessel; but it was at once determined on all hands that the new comer was an impostor, and that he should not be allowed to land; indeed, so great was the indignation manifested, they fired upon the ship, which hastily withdrew from the harbor out of their reach. What must have been the feelings of Anjah, who, after years of absence and escape from so many dangers, was thus greeted on coming in sight of his native shore, which he had left years before, followed by the blessings of the people. One thing was very certain; it was folly to attempt to land while there was such a feeling of opposition abroad, so they removed out of harm's way, and the vessel was anchored at a distance, but not out of the view of all, for from the towers of the palace the mother of Anjah was watching the ship, for she, as well as the prime minister, had heard of the arrival of the stranger, and all day had been maturing their plans to restore Anjah to his home and his rights, and were only waiting for the night to seek the vessel, and bring him, his bride, and his companions on shore. Accordingly, as soon as it was dark, one or two devoted servants of the Queen, who were entrusted with the secret, went out in boats till they reached the ship, and there revealed to the Prince the state of things at home, and prevailed on him and his followers to return with them. They were landed as secretly as possible, and gained the palace without detection. Here they were met by the Queen and the prime minister; the former embraced her long-lost son and his bride with the most fervent affection, and they recounted to each other all the trials and dangers to which both had been subjected. It seems that Anjah had remained in the kingdom of Merea's father till a vessel had been fitted up for him, and, fearing to be again parted from Merea, after the shipwreck, which had so nearly sundered them for ever, Anjah had determined, ere his departure, to make her his wife, so that she might accompany him to his home. When the ship was in readiness the nuptials had been celebrated, and they had set sail. Anjah recounted to his mother and the minister the history of the shipwreck, of the loss of Balzebar, the royal helmet and plumes, and of the golden cloak. The Queen and the minister, in their turn, related to Anjah the subsequent history of Balzebar, the infatuation of the people, and that on the morrow he was to be crowned King with great pomp. They all tried to devise some plan which, if adopted, might bring all things to their true and proper position. At last Anjah thought of a way of revealing himself to Balzebar, for upon a public recognition of him by the poor dwarf himself seemed to hang his only chance of being acknowledged. The night was spent in revolving this scheme, which was heartily approved by all.

On the morrow, early in the morning, a great crowd was assembled before the palace, each striving to be foremost to get a place where they might witness so august a ceremony. All things were prepared on the most magnificent scale; music resounded in peals to the skies; trains of cavalry and infantry, with their glittering arms flashing in the sun, were filling in the courts; in the midst was a platform under an awning, on which was placed a throne prepared for Balzebar, and when all was in readiness he was led forth. As the shouts of admiration went up, the dwarf lolled idly in his seat, and toyed with the golden sceptre that was presented to him; his dull eye wandering without expression over the assembly. Anjah, in disguise, placed himself in front of him, and presently, when directly in his line of vision, raised the cap that shaded his brow, and gave him a full view of his countenance, at the same time fixing on him his eye. Balzebar was transfixed with astonishment for an instant; then, with a cry of joy, rushing forward, tore off the royal helmet and the golden cloak, and threw them, with himself, at the feet of Anjah. A low murmur arose from the crowd as the well known and despised dwarf, Balzebar, was before them, revealed in all his natural hideousness. At this moment the prime minister, who stood near at hand, threw the cloak of gold over the shoulders of Anjah, and placed the helmet with the white plumes upon his lofty brow, and, as they knew their true prince, a shout so triumphant arose from the assembled multitude that it seemed like the breaking of thunder.

No farther notice was taken of Balzebar, but the crown was placed on the head of Anjah, who now brought forward the Princess Merea, and presented her as his spouse, and their future Queen. The whole procession returned to the palace, in which Anjah was received as the reigning prince. The King, though he recovered sufficiently to recognise his son, remained still too weak in mind to admit of his assuming the reins of government, which he quietly resigned to his heir, and passed a quiet and peaceful old age, cheered by the kind attentions of his Queen and his daughter-in-law, the Princess Merea, to whom he became tenderly attached. As for Balzebar, he returned to private life with a much better grace than many others who have been thrown down from a less exalted position. He was ever an intimate of the palace, and was appointed by the King as "Keeper of the Royal Helmet and Golden Cloak," a post for which he had before showed himself particularly fitted, and to which he thenceforth, as before, remained faithful. He lived long enough to follow the son and daughter of the Prince and Princess as he had done their father and mother before them. As for Anjah and Merea, they ever retained the good opinion and admiration of their subjects, and bequeathed a prosperous and peaceful kingdom to their heirs.

THE WONDERFUL BIRD.

Once upon a time an old man felt himself to be dying, and, calling his family to his bedside, took leave of them one by one, according to the fashion of the east, and, after recommending to their joint protection an aged uncle, who had long been unable to take care of himself, and bidding them be honest and industrious, he addressed them thus:--"My sons, I leave you in possession of this cottage, its furniture, and a small amount of treasure in gold, the fruits of many years' labor, and I wish you to remain here like brothers, and work together in amity till the death of your uncle, so that he will not be a burden upon either of you; besides this, I am able, by means of the power which has latterly been given me, to foresee future events, and to predict that to one of you will come good fortune through the means of a wonderful bird, who is to be the cause of this great wealth. To which of you it is to come I cannot determine, nor is it of much importance that you should know; it is only required of you each to do his duty, and leave all the rest to Providence." Obed and Mozam were delighted to hear this good news, each one secretly thinking himself the fortunate one; but poor Sadoc, who was the youngest, and the most dutiful of the three, was so grieved at the prospect of parting with his dear father, who had always been so kind and indulgent to him, that he thought little about this prophecy, as he sat by the bedside, and closed the eyes that should never again look upon him with the light of life and love.

After his father was dead he sat by his corpse till, overcome by weariness , he fell asleep. His brothers had retired to rest early in the evening, and he had supposed them slumbering for hours before; but about midnight the eldest, Obed, who had not undressed himself, hearing the deep, regular breathing of Sadoc, which assured him that he would not easily awaken, stole softly into the room, and, finding the keys, took the box of money from under the bed, and unlocking it, secreted all the gold that he could find in his pockets, and, taking a small bundle of clothes in his hand, started off as rapidly as possible, leaving the body of his father still unburied in the house.

The next morning, when it was discovered that Obed had gone, and that the strong box had been robbed of all its treasure, the second son, Mozam, was loud in his exclamations against the wickedness and ingratitude of his elder brother; but Sadoc felt so disgraced by his conduct he said hardly a word in his grief, but silently went on with the preparations for his father's funeral, and had him interred with all the appearance of decency and respect possible, in the absence of the first-born son, he who should have been the principal mourner, and at night retired to rest less sad, from feeling the happy consciousness of having done his duty.

And now it was shown that Mozam was in reality no better than his brother Obed, for no sooner was Sadoc fast asleep in his own bed than the second brother arose and let into the door several men who had been waiting outside, and, with their assistance, loaded a cart with all the effects of the cottage that were movable, and drove off with them to the pawnbrokers, who advanced on them a sum of money, with which he made off, as his brother had done before him. When Sadoc arose in the morning he found every article of furniture missing, with the exception of his own and his uncle's bed, and a few old worthless pots and pans; and his aged relative was seated in the chimney-corner on an old settle, gazing around with a stare of dismay on the scene of devastation. While Sadoc remained shocked, speechless, he heard a sort of chuckling noise, and, looking to see from whence it proceeded, found that an old speckled hen had stolen a nest in some wool that lay under the seat of his uncle, and was there sitting upon a large number of eggs. Here, thought poor Sadoc, is another mouth to feed, and, going into the granary, picked up a few grains of corn and some seeds which he threw to the hen. He then sat down sadly to devise a plan by which he could get bread for himself and his helpless dependent. Had he been alone there would have been no difficulty; the wide world would have been before him, and, with his energy and perseverance, he could soon have achieved a fortune without the intervention of any wonderful bird, and he must now give up any hopes he might have had of finding it. He felt that his father's last injunction, to take care of his poor idiot brother, was, now that his elders had both proved themselves unworthy of their trusts, doubly binding upon him, so he went out and hired himself to the first master that he could find, as a common laborer, and toiled hard all day for a few scanty pennies, which bought just bread enough to keep himself and his uncle from actual starvation, and a few crumbs for his old hen. After going on a week or two in this way, he came home one night and found the hen had brought out a large brood of chickens. He had now to work harder to procure them a little food also, on which they seemed to thrive; and as spring advanced, and the warm weather came, the old man used to let them out of the coop, and wandered with them about the meadows, where they picked up worms, grasshoppers, and such seeds as they could find, and they grew through the summer so well, that by the time of the Christmas market, they were as plump as partridges, and half of them sold for quite a little sum of money, which he laid by, and sold the eggs of the remaining ones for enough to pay for their food during winter. In the spring, most of them bringing out large broods, he had quite a lot of chickens for the fall market, and eggs to sell all the summer, so that he found after several seasons that he had money enough--the proceeds of his eggs and chickens--to purchase a little spot of rocky ground close beside his cottage, where he meant his uncle should amuse himself, in picking up stones, and planting a few turnips and cabbages. Now we leave him happy and contented, though in poverty so deep, and see what has become of his brothers, who went off to seek the wonderful bird.

On the night that Obed had stolen away with the gold, when he had reached an eminence just beyond, he looked back on the little cottage, where his father's body lay, and where his brothers were so peacefully sleeping, and his conscience smote him for a moment, for the wrong which he was doing them; but quickly stifling the voice within, he said to himself, "It is now too late to return and replace the money; I should probably be discovered, while doing it, and then the disgrace would be the same; besides I shall, no doubt, be soon able to give them back ten times the value of that I have taken with me; for when I obtain this wonderful bird, which is to make the fortune of one of us, and as I am the oldest, I feel certain that it is my own, I shall come back again, and enrich them all. I should really do them a greater injustice if I staid at home till this money should be spent, and deprived myself of the means of finding it, than by going now, and making a certainty of securing it." And thus having succeeded in quieting all scruples, he went on as fast as he was able, till after several days, having gone a long distance, he began to proceed on his course more leisurely, without fear of pursuit. And now his mind began to be more and more upon the wonderful bird, and he listened to all the tales of travelers of the birds of Paradise, and of the desert bird, of the owls that hooted dismally through the woods, and the nightingales that cheered the darkness with their melody. Great flocks of birds passed over his head, eastward, and westward, and southward; some of the most beautiful plumage, but none ever stopped in their flight to point him to the treasure that he longed for, but they soared away out of his sight. At last, after a long time, he heard of a bird, which had been known to do many wonderful things. It was said to have it in its power to foretell future events; had pointed out to many persons the places where they found lost money and goods, and was in all respects a most remarkable fowl. "Now," thought Obed, when stories of its superior powers were recounted to him, "I am coming at last to the object of my desires; this is the bird by whose means I am to realize the great prediction made by my father, and now I can congratulate myself upon the wisdom of the course which I have pursued, in putting myself in a way to find this marvelous creature. I might have staid at home all my lifetime, and have been no richer, though all this fortune stands waiting for me." So losing not a single moment, he set off to the place where it was being exhibited. He reached an inn at the town that same night, and made so many inquiries concerning it, as to awaken the attention of all present. Among the rest, stopping at the tavern were two men, who seemed disposed to be very sociable with him. They treated him to drink, and professed to feel a great and sudden friendship for him; they threw him completely off his guard, and before he retired to bed he had told them all about the prophecy of his father, and was silly enough to reveal to them that he carried a bag of money with him. After he left the room, they sat whispering together, and laughing about him, and then calling him a great fool, as he was to be sure, they followed him to bed likewise. Now these two very men belonged to the company that were exhibiting the bird, and were stationed at the inn on purpose to gain all the information that they could about the people in the town, so that they could by means of the bird, convey to them such a knowledge of their own private affairs, as to surprise the credulous at once into a belief of its supernatural powers. They had got all the information they wanted concerning Obed, and early in the morning left the inn, to get the conjurer who managed the bird, in readiness to receive him, while he lay dreaming of being in a world where every thing was turned into gold.

As soon as the hour appointed for the performance of its magical tricks had come, Obed presented himself before the bird. It was a macaw, with brilliant plumage; under its feet was a plate, marked like the dial of a clock; it would walk three times around this, and presently, with one of its toes, point to a particular mark, which the exhibiter pretended to interpret and explain. When Obed stood before it, it began to flutter its wings, and showed great signs of agitation, which was said to be because it was going to predict some great fortune to him. This at the offset so prejudiced Obed in its favor, that he was prepared to believe every word that followed. The bird then walked round the dial three times and pointed to a mark; the exhibiter commenced explaining it. At first, he repeated as much of Obed's plans and history as the two men had picked up the night before, which gave him, in the course of fifteen minutes, such confidence in its ability, that had the bird told him to go to the bottom of the sea in search of the treasure, he would have been almost stupid enough to have done it; but they told him no such thing, for they were not at all desirous of putting him out of the way till they had got possession of his bag of money.

They told him to wait till night came, and then to go alone to a cave, which they pointed out to him, about half a mile distant from the town, through the woods, where he would find an old hermit, who would meet him, and show him where he could find an immense, treasure. They then dismissed him.

Obed was so impatient to come into possession of his wealth, he scarcely ate or drank all day, and as soon as it was dark, set off in search of the cave. After groping about for a long while, and falling down several times, he came at last upon it, and was rather surprised at not finding the hermit in waiting for him; but seeing a torch approach, concluded that it must be he; but was soon much surprised at seeing instead three men, two of whom he recognized as the same who had been the night before at the tavern. They came upon him, and suddenly seizing him, gave him a most unmerciful beating. They then bound him hand and foot, and took from him his money; and after making themselves merry for a while at his expense, left him lying upon the ground half dead, telling him that no doubt the hermit would come and show him the treasure before morning. There he lay all night, moaning and crying, and then came to his mind thoughts of his own undutiful conduct, in leaving his brothers unprovided for, and he felt that he was only justly punished for all his wickedness. He was not only half frozen with the cold, but was in a fright lest some beast of prey should come upon him in this helpless state, all bound as he was, and mangle or devour him; but he was relieved from the worst of his fears in the morning; for a company of sailors passing that way going to their vessel, found him in this pitiable condition; they helped him up on one of their mules, and bearing him to the inn, from whence he had come, made inquiries, concerning the two men, and the owners of the bird, but found they had gone off early the evening preceding; and though great exertions were made by the people of the town, almost all of whom had been in some way or other deceived by them, no traces of them could be found.

Now poor Obed knew not what course to pursue; he had no money, to return to his native home; and even if he had, shame would have prevented his doing so; he therefore accepted the offer of the sailors, that he should join them, and go on board the ship; and while he is passing a life of toil and hardship upon the perilous ocean, let us go back and trace out the history of his second brother, Mozam.

As soon as he left his home, he went directly to a neighboring seaport, and embarked in a vessel that was going to the coast of Africa, as if thinking that the farther he got from his home, the greater would be the chances of his finding the bird of promise. After reaching the land, he roamed about from place to place, till nearly all his money had gone, and yet no richer or wiser. Multitudes of birds of every shape and hue, daily passed before his eyes. At last he fell in with a company who were crossing the desert in a caravan, and many strange sights were seen by Mozam. Nothing awakened his wonder so much as the gigantic ostriches that ran much swifter than horses over the sands. "Surely," thought he, "what creature is more capable of revealing any knowledge or mystery to man than this--what bird could be one-half so wonderful; this must be the creature that is to exercise such an influence over my fortunes." But yet nothing occurred, day after day, to confirm his hopes of their being able to assist him, though hundreds of them passed daily before him.

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