  AN ALLEGORY. LUCIE COBBE. M Many years ago, two little branches grew in a hedgerow; they were brothers, but their tastes were different. The younger one was lazy, and liked to stay in the shade; but the elder one kept pushing steadily upwards, and making all the haste to grow that he could. He had seven leaves each side, but his brother had only three. "Why can't you stay where you are?" said the younger one; "you are well in the middle of the hedge." "I want to get higher," sighed the elder twig; "there is plenty to be seen outside." And he kept growing taller and taller. "You are going beyond us," cried his sister twigs, "bend down a little, brother." "If I bent my back I should stop growing," said the twig; and he listened to catch their voices. "Conceited fellow! he is trying to grow the tallest!" said some of the twigs; and a murmuring swept through the hedge. One day more of pushing and striving, and he was nearly at the top of the hedge. He could no longer see his brother, but he called to him down through the branches. "Brother, where are you?" he cried, "and what do you see down there?" "I am wrapped up in softness," said the fair younger brother; "the green boughs are round me, the wind does not touch me—all round me is nothing but green. Just down below me grows a round, white daisy—oh, such a beautiful daisy! All the day long I am looking at her." The first brother felt a little lonely when he heard all this, but the sun still drew him upward. The next day he was quite at the top of the hedge, and a head and shoulders taller than any of his brothers. The voice of his younger brother came up to him, but it sounded very faint and far away. "Are you happy, brother, and what can you see up there?" "I see the sky," said the elder twig; "there is blue all round me instead of green. I see trees that are taller than our hedge a great deal, and hills that are higher than all. I see white clouds like pillows, and birds that are lost in the clouds. Ah, I have longed for this! I feel a great joy and rapture to the end of my smallest leaf!" "We don't know what you mean," said the younger one, "and there can't be anything higher than this hedge. And why do you speak so softly? We cannot hear half that you say." "Insolent fellow! he is taller than any of us!" cried some of the twigs; but by this time he was too far off to hear their voices at all. "I shall have a prize," said the twig to himself, "because I have grown so tall. What will it be? I will ask the swallow. Swallow, shall I have a gold crown?" "No, not a crown," said the swallow, but something as good, I dare say. Far away down in the country I know of a twig like you. He grew far away from his fellows—so tall, and so strong, and so fair. He saw the world and all that was passing. He stretched right over the stile, and shaded those who sat there. He was painted by an artist, because he "I shall get my reward," said the little twig; "my white rose will come at last." Just then there came walking around the garden, the gardener with his great long shears. "The hedge is growing uneven," he said; "here's a twig much longer than the rest." Clip, clip, clip, went the great big shears, and the tallest twig lay broken in the dust! "They are all of one size now, I am glad to see," said the gardener, and he went away contented to his work. Decorative. That very law which moulds the tear, And bids it trickle from its source, That law preserves this world a sphere, And guides the planets in their course! SAMUEL ROGERS: "TO A TEAR." Decorative. THE TURK AND THE FIDDLER.—— GRIMM. There was once a rich farmer who had a faithful and diligent servant named Fritz. He was always the first up in the morning and last in bed at night, and whenever there was any hard work that others were averse to, he was always willing to do it. He was a good-natured fellow, but was content with everything, and was always cheerful. At the end of the first year his master gave him no wages, thinking to himself that thus he would not only save something, but would not only save something, but would also At the end of the third year his master bethought himself, and put his hand into his pocket as if to give him something, but took out nothing. Then Fritz said, "Master, I have worked hard for you these three years; pray give me now what is right for my trouble; I want to go out into the wide world, and look about me," The miser answered, "Yes, my good man, you have served me honestly and faithfully, and for this I will now reward you generously." He then put his hand into his pocket, and took out three farthings, which he gave him, saying, "Here is a farthing for each year; this is a great and generous reward, such as you would not have got from any other master." The simple-hearted fellow, who knew very little about money, put the sum into his pocket, thinking to himself, "Now that my pocket is full of money, why should I plague myself with hard work any longer?" So he set out, and roamed over hill and dale, singing and dancing with joy. One day, when passing by a bush, a dwarf popped out of it, and "Why should I be melancholy?" answered Fritz; "I have plenty of money; I have my three years' earnings safe in my pocket." "How much may your treasure be?" said the dwarf. "How much? Three whole farthings," replied Fritz. "I wish you would give them to me," said the other; "I am very poor and needy, and can earn nothing; but you are young, and can easily work for your bread." Then Fritz, who was very kind-hearted, took pity on the dwarf, and gave him his three farthings, saying, "Take them, I shall not be the worse off for the want of them," The dwarf then said, "As you have such a kind heart, I will grant you three wishes, one for each farthing; so choose whatever you like." "My first wish," said Fritz, "is to have a fowling-piece that will bring down everything I shoot at; secondly, a fiddle that will set everyone dancing that hears me play on it; and thirdly, I should like to be able to make everyone grant me whatever I ask." "All your wishes shall be fulfilled," said the dwarf. He thrust his hand into the bush, and only think! there lay the fiddle and the fowling-piece ready, as if they had been put there on purpose. So he "What else can my heart wish for?" said Fritz to himself; "I now have everything that I can desire;" and so he journeyed merrily on his way. He had not gone far before he met an old Turk, bearded like a goat, who was standing near a tree, listening to the sprightly song of a bird perched on its topmost branch. "Oh, what a wonderful bird!" exclaimed the Turk; "how can such a little creature have such a powerful voice? Oh, if he were only mine! If one could but put salt on his tail and catch him!" "If that's all," said Fritz, "I will soon bring him down." So he took up his fowling-piece, and fired, when down came the bird into the thorn bushes that grew at the foot of the tree. "I will pick it up and keep it for myself, as you have hit it," said the Turk; and, laying himself down upon the ground, he began to work his way into the bush. But as soon as he had got into the middle of it, a fit of wanton playfulness seizing Fritz, he took up his fiddle, and gave him a tune, and the Turk began to dance and spring about; and the more lively the The thorns soon began to tear the Turk's shabby clothes, comb his goat's beard, and scratch and wound him all over. "Oh, dear!" cried he, "mercy, mercy, master! pray stop your fiddling! I do not want to dance." But Fritz paid no heed, and only struck up another tune, thereby making the Turk cut and caper higher than ever, so that pieces torn out of his clothes, hung about the thorn. "Oh, mercy!" cried the Turk, "do stop your fiddling, master! I will give you whatever you ask, a bagfull of gold, if you only will!" "Ah! if you are as generous as that," said the man, "I will put up my fiddle; but I must say you are a capital dancer." He then took the offered purse, put up his fiddle, and traveled onward. The Turk stood still looking after his tormentor for some time, and when he was almost out of sight, began to cry as loud as he could, "You miserable fiddler! you ale-house scraper! take care, if I get hold of you I will make you take to your heels; you beggarly knave! you ragamuffin!" And he went on loading him with all manner of abuse. After having thus given vent to his feelings, he went to the judge, saying, "See, your honor, how I have been robbed and ill-used by a The judge then asked him whether it was a soldier who had put him in that plight with his sword. "By no means," said the Turk; "he had no sword, but he had a fowling-piece hanging on his back, and a fiddle round his neck. The fellow may easily be recognized." So the judge sent out his bailiffs in search of the man. They met the honest fellow walking slowly and carelessly on, and, on searching him, found the money-bag in question. When he was taken before the judge he said, "I have not touched the Turk, nor have I taken away his money; he offered it me of his own free will, if I would but leave off playing the fiddle, as he could not bear my music." "Not a word of truth in it!" cried the Turk, "those are bare-faced lies." And the judge not believing it either, said, "That is a very poor excuse;" and sentenced the poor man to the gallows for highway As he was being taken away, the Turk cried after him, "You lubber! you shall now get your well-deserved punishment!" The poor man ascended the ladder very composedly, accompanied by the executioner; but when he had got up to the top of it, he turned round and addressed the judge, saying, "May it please your honor to grant me but one last request before I die!" "Anything but your life," replied the other. "I do not ask my life," said Fritz; "only let me play one tune upon my fiddle for the last time." The Turk cried out, "Oh, no, no! for pity's sake don't let him! don't let him!" But the judge said, "Why should I not grant him this last request? He shall do so." The fact was, he could not say no, because the dwarf's third gift enabled Fritz to make everyone grant whatever he asked. Then the Turk said, "Bind me fast, bind me fast, bind me fast, for pity's sake!" But the condemned man seized his fiddle and struck up a merry tune; and at the first note, judge, clerks, and jailor were set agoing; at the second note, all began capering and the hangman let his prisoner go, and prepared to dance; at the third note all were dancing and springing together, and the judge and the Turk took the lead and In a little while all the market people who were looking on, old and young, stout and lean, were dancing together; even the very dogs that had come along with them were up on their hind legs, and were leaping along with the rest. And the longer the fiddler played, the higher the dancers capered, so that they knocked their heads together and began to cry out piteously. At last the judge exclaimed, quite out of breath, "I grant you your life; do but give over playing." Then Fritz suffered himself to be persuaded, stopped playing, and, hanging his fiddle round his neck, came down the ladder. Then, stepping up to the Turk, who was lying breathless on the ground, he said, "You scoundrel! now confess where you got that money from, or I will take my fiddle down and make you dance to another tune." "I stole it, I stole it!" cried he; "but it is you who have won it fairly." The judge then had the Turk taken to the gallows and hung as a thief. The sober second thought is always essential, and seldom wrong. MARTIN VAN BUREN. Decorative.
|
|
