“Tell Us a Story” (or “The Giant’s Heart”) in The ... · Illustrated London News Daniel...
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Textual Study “Tell Us a Story” (or “The Giant’s Heart”) in The Illustrated London News Daniel Gabelman ell Us a Story” was the original published version of “The Giant’s Heart.” It appeared in the 1863 Christmas supplement of The Illustrated London News along with stories such as “Freeman’s Phantoms” and “The Hairdresser of Tetherham,” and poems like “Lily’s Ball,” all accompanied by festive line-illustrations. Also included was a sumptuous full-color fold-out reproduction of James Sant’s painting “Little Red Riding Hood,” the largest chromo-typographic reproduction that the News had ever attempted. “Tell Us a Story” was shortly thereafter reprinted as one of the interpolated stories in Adela Cathcart (around April 1864); then in 1867 it was republished with the rest of MacDonald’s fairy tales in Dealings With the Fairies in the form that is most familiar to readers today. Whilst the actual fairy tale remains the same across all of the versions, three significant variations make “Tell Us a Story” unique: the frame narrative, the inclusion of “The Owl and the Bell” as the concluding poem, and two illustrations by C. Robinson. As befitting a Christmas supplement, the frame narration begins after Christmas dinner with a large extended family gathering around the fire to conclude the joyous day. The only non-family member is “Uncle Bogie,” a merry trickster figure who is the favorite of the children and whose “head is full of nonsense.” Uncle Bogie prefigures John Smith, the playful narrator of Adela Cathcart who is similarly an unrelated “uncle” and slightly mischievous. Indeed, it is even possible that “Tell Us a Story,” with its frame narrative and interruptions by the children, gave MacDonald the idea for Adela Cathcart. When the story migrated to Adela Cathcart, MacDonald kept much of the frame dialogue but transferred the scene to the Cathcart home. In at least one place, however, MacDonald forgot to modify the children’s utterances to accord with the new setting. The boy who asks for a story about “a good giant” is described in both versions as “a priggish imp, with a face as round as the late plum pudding” even though in Adela Cathcart it is not North Wind 29 (2010): 77-101 “T
Transcript of “Tell Us a Story” (or “The Giant’s Heart”) in The ... · Illustrated London News Daniel...
Textual Study
“Tell Us a Story” (or “The Giant’s Heart”) in The Illustrated London News
Daniel Gabelman
ellUsaStory”wastheoriginalpublishedversionof“TheGiant’sHeart.”Itappearedinthe1863ChristmassupplementofTheIllustrated London Newsalongwithstoriessuchas“Freeman’sPhantoms”and“TheHairdresserofTetherham,”andpoemslike“Lily’sBall,”allaccompaniedbyfestiveline-illustrations.Alsoincludedwasasumptuousfull-colorfold-outreproductionofJamesSant’spainting“LittleRedRidingHood,”thelargestchromo-typographicreproductionthattheNews hadeverattempted. “TellUsaStory”wasshortlythereafterreprintedasoneoftheinterpolatedstoriesinAdela Cathcart(aroundApril1864);thenin1867itwasrepublishedwiththerestofMacDonald’sfairytalesinDealings With the Fairiesintheformthatismostfamiliartoreaderstoday.Whilsttheactualfairytaleremainsthesameacrossalloftheversions,threesignificantvariationsmake“TellUsaStory”unique:theframenarrative,theinclusionof“TheOwlandtheBell”astheconcludingpoem,andtwoillustrationsbyC.Robinson. AsbefittingaChristmassupplement,theframenarrationbeginsafterChristmasdinnerwithalargeextendedfamilygatheringaroundthefiretoconcludethejoyousday.Theonlynon-familymemberis“UncleBogie,”amerrytricksterfigurewhoisthefavoriteofthechildrenandwhose“headisfullofnonsense.”UncleBogieprefiguresJohnSmith,theplayfulnarratorofAdela Cathcart whoissimilarlyanunrelated“uncle”andslightlymischievous.Indeed,itisevenpossiblethat“TellUsaStory,”withitsframenarrativeandinterruptionsbythechildren,gaveMacDonaldtheideaforAdela Cathcart.WhenthestorymigratedtoAdela Cathcart,MacDonaldkeptmuchoftheframedialoguebuttransferredthescenetotheCathcarthome.Inatleastoneplace,however,MacDonaldforgottomodifythechildren’sutterancestoaccordwiththenewsetting.Theboywhoasksforastoryabout“agoodgiant”isdescribedinbothversionsas“apriggishimp,withafaceasroundasthelateplumpudding”eventhoughinAdela Cathcartitisnot
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Christmasdayandtherehasbeennomentionofpudding. Theconcludingpoem,“TheOwlandtheBell,”isadelightfulpieceofnonsenseequaltoeventheverybestofLearandCarroll,whichMacDonaldlaterreprintedinthesecondvolumeofhisPoetical Worksunderthesection“Parables.”Itconcernsa“poorandgenteel”owlwhoblameshishabitofsleepingthroughthedayandstealingfoodbynightonthenoisychurchbellthatisalwaystolling“Bing,Bang,Bome”andcallingpeopletoprayer.Whenthebellissilencedforafewweekswhilethevillagersrepairthechurch,theowlisexultantandbeginstotauntthebell,butthenaloud“Bang”sendsthepoorowlfalling“likeanavalancheoffeathersandfoam.”Thepoemendswiththeowltryingtosavehisdignitybyridiculouslyclaimingthathebroughtthebellbacktolifewhenheperchedinside.Thethemesofpride,hypocrisyandvanityharmonizewellwiththoseraisedin“TheGiant’sHeart.”Yettheproximityofthisnonsensicalpoemwiththefairytalesuggeststhatneitherismeanttobeinterpretedstraightforwardlyformoralisticpurposes.Thenarratorevenadmitsthattheevening’sentertainmenthasbeenrathermischievouswhenhesays,“thelittleoneswentofftosleep,and,Iamafraid,todream.” ThestorywasalsoaccompaniedbyillustrationsfromC.Robinson,whowasastaffillustratorforThe Illustrated London Newsatthetime.HeismorefamousastheuncleofthethreeRobinsonbrothers:Charles,Thomas,andWilliam.CharlesRobinson,forexample,illustratedStevenson’sA Garden Book of Verses (1895).ThesetwoillustrationsseemtobeC.Robinson’sonlycollaborationwithGeorgeMacDonald.Withamoonandacandleforillumination,theline-drawingsbothhaveastrongaspectofchiaroscuro—asiftheillustratorweredrawingattentiontothedreamlikequalityofMacDonald’stale—fullofshadowsandpartiallights. Restoringtheseelementsto“TheGiant’sHeart”willhopefullyservetorenewinterestinthisoftenneglectedanddenigratedfairytaleandtoelucidateMacDonald’schildlikeloveofstoriesfortheirownsake,beyondtheirmoralpurposeandpedagogicalusefulness.
“Tell Us A Story” by George MacDonald TheChristmasdinner,puddingandall,wasover;thewineandnutshadheldoutforatime,buthadgiveninatlast;andevensnapdragonwouldsnapnolonger.Thechildren—someofwhomwereveryyoung,andsomewithgreyhairs,youngerstill—drewroundthedrawing-roomfire.Therewereagrandfatherandgrandmother,andaboutfifteengrandchildren,withthree
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papasandthreemammas,besidestwoyoungauntsandthreeyounguncles,oneofwhomthechildrencalledUncleBogie.Hewas,infact,nouncleatall;butthechildrenlikedhimbestofalltheiruncles;andsodidoneoftheiraunts.ThereasonwhytheycalledhimUncleBogiewasthatheknewallaboutbogies.Youwouldhavethoughthehadbeenthepapaofallthebogies,heknewsomuchaboutthem. Nosoonerweretheyallseated,andtheresponsibleonesthinkingwhattodonext,thanalong-haired,solemnlittlegirlsaid,staringhardintothefire,andneverturningherbig,deepeyestowardsthepersonsheaddressed:— “Dotellusahorridstory,UncleBogie.” “YoulittleGoblin!”saidUncleBogie;“becauseyoulikehorridstories,youthinkeveryoneelsedoes.” “Ido,”criedone. “AndIdo,”criedanother. “And Ido,”criedathird. Andallthechildrencalledout“Ido,”exceptonechild,whosefacefadedalittleassheturnedandgotholdofhermother’sdress. “UncleBogie,”saidthechildhehadcalledGoblin,goinguptohim,“youknowyourheadisfullofstoriesaboutghosts,andgiants,andfairies.” “Howdoyouknow,Goblin?” “Iwilltellyou.Mammasaysstoriesofthatkindareallnonsense.AndAuntiesaysyourheadisfullofnonsense.SoIknow,yousee.” “WhichAuntiesaidso,Goblin?” “Why,AuntKate.” BythistimeAuntKate’sfacewasasredastheChristmasfire.UncleBogiecaughtsightofit,and,beingverygood-natured,repliedinstantly, “Well,Goblin,AuntKateisquiteright;myheadis asfullofnonsenseasitcanhold,andImustpositivelyletsomeofitout.Iwilltellyouastorydirectly.” “Oh!thankyou,UncleBogie,”brokefromallpartsofthecircle. “Whatshallitbeaboutthen?” “Awickedfairy.” “No;that’sstupid.I’mtiredofwickedfairies,”saidascornfullittlegirl. “Agoodgiant,then,”saidapriggishimp,withafaceasroundasthelateplum-pudding. “IamafraidIcouldnottellyouastoryaboutagood giant;for,
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unfortunately,allthegoodgiantsIeverheardofwereverystupid;sostupidthatastorywouldnotmakeitselfaboutthem;sostupid,indeed,thattheyarealwaysmadegameofbycreaturesnothalfsobignorhalfsogood;andIdon’tlikesuchstories.ShallItellyouaboutthewickedgiantthatgrewlittlechildreninhisgardeninsteadofradishes,andcarriedthemaboutinhiswaistcoat-pocket,andateoneasoftenasherememberedhehadgotsome?” “Yes,yes,UncleBogie;pleasedo.” “Heusedtocatchlittlechildrenandplanttheminhisgarden,whereyoumightseetheminrows,withtheirheadsonlyaboveground,rollingtheireyesabout,andgrowingawfullyfast.Helikedgreedyboysbest—boysthatateplum-puddingtilltheyfeltasiftheirbeltsweretootight.” Herethefat-facedboystuckbothhishandsinsidehisbelt. “Becausehewassofondofradishes,”UncleBogiewenton,“helivedjustonthebordersofGiantland,whereittouchedonthecountryofcommonpeople.Now,everythinginGiantlandwassobigthatthecommonpeoplesawonlyamassofawfulmountainsandclouds;andnolivingmanhadevercomefromit,asfarasanybodyknew,totellwhathehadseeninit.Somewhereneartheseborders,ontheotherside,bytheedgeofagreatforest,livedalabourerwithhiswifeandagreatmanychildren.OnedayTricksey-Wee,astheycalledher,teasedherbrotherBuffy-Bobtillhecouldnotbearitanylonger,andgaveheraboxontheear.Tricksey-Weecried;andBuffy-Bobwassosorryandashamedofhimselfthathecriedtoo,andranoffintothewood.HewassolonggonethatTricksey-Weebegantobefrightened,forshewasveryfondofherbrother;andshewassosorrythatshehadfirstteasedhimandthencriedthatatlastsheranintothewoodtolookforhim,thoughtherewasmorechanceoflosingherselfthanoffindinghim.And,indeed,soitseemedlikelytoturnout;for,runningonwithoutlooking,sheatlengthfoundherselfinavalleysheknewnothingabout.Andnowonder;forwhatshethoughtwasavalleywithround,rockysides,wasnootherthanthespacebetweentwooftherootsofagreattreethatgrewonthebordersofGiantland.Sheclimbeduptothesideofit,andrightuptowhatshetookforablack,round-toppedmountain,faraway;butshesoondiscoveredthatitwasclosetoher,andwasahollowplace,sogreatthatshecouldnottellwhatitwashollowedoutof.Staringatit,shefoundthatitwasadoorway;and,goingnearerandstaringharder,shesawthedoor,farin,withaknockerofironuponit,agreatmanyyardsaboveherhead,andaslargeastheanchorofabigship.Now,nobodyhadeverbeenunkindtoTricksey-Wee,soshewasnotafraidofanybody.ForBuffy-Bob’sboxontheearshedidnot
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thinkworthconsidering.So,spyingalittleholeatthebottomofthedoor,whichhadbeennibbledbysomegiantmouse;Tricksey-Weecreptthroughit,andfoundherselfinanenormoushall,asbigasifthelateMr.Martin,R.A.,hadbeenthearchitect.Shecouldnothaveseentheotherendofitatall,exceptforthegreatfirethatwasburningthere,diminishedtoasparkinthedistance.Sherantowardsthisfireasfastasshecould,andwasnotfarfromitwhensomethingfellbeforeherwithagreatclatter,andshetumbledoverit,andwentrollingonthefloor.Shewasnotmuchhurt,however,andgotupinamoment.Thenshesawthatshehadtumbledoversomethingnotunlikeagreatironbucket.Whensheexamineditmorecloselyshesawthatitwasathimble;andlookinguptoseewhohaddroppedit,beheldahugeface,withspectaclesasbigastheroundwindowsinachurch,bendingoverher,andlookingeverywhereforthethimble.Tricksey-Weeimmediatelylaidholdofitinbothherarms,andlifteditaboutaninchnearertothenoseofthepeeringgiantess.
Tricksey-WeewiththeGiantess’sThimbleDrawnbyC.Robinson
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Thismovementmadetheoldladyseewhereitwas,and,herfingerpoppingintoit,itvanishedfromtheeyesofTricksey-Wee,buriedinthefoldsofawhitestocking,likeacloudinthesky,whichMrs.Giantwasbusydarning.ForitwasSaturdaynight,andherhusbandwouldwearnothingbutwhitestockingsonSunday.” “ButhowcouldhebesoparticularaboutwhitestockingsonSunday,andeatlittlechildren?”askedoneofthegroup. “Why,tobesure,”answeredUncleBogie,“hedideatlittlechildren,butonlyvery littleones;andifeveritcrossedhismindthatitwaswrongtodoso,healwayssaidtohimselfthatheworewhiterstockingsonSundaythananyothergiantinallGiantland.” AtthatinstantTricksey-Weeheardasoundlikethewindinatreefullofleaves,andcouldnotthinkwhatitcouldbe;till,lookingup,shefoundthatitwasthegiantesswhisperingtoher;and,whenshetriedveryhard,shecouldhearwhatshesaidwellenough. “Runaway,dearlittlegirl,”shesaid,“asfastasyoucan;formyhusbandwillbehomeinafewminutes.” “ButI’veneverbeennaughtytoyourhusband,”saidTricksey-Weelookingupinthegiantess’sface. “Thatdoesn’tmatter.Youhadbettergo.Heissofondoflittlechildren,particularlylittlegirls.” “Oh!Thenhewon’thurtme.” “Iamnotsureofthat.Heissofondofthemthatheeatsthemup;andIamafraidhecouldn’thelphurtingyoualittle.He’saverygoodman,though.” “Oh!inthatcase,”beganTricksey-Wee,feelingratherfrightened;butbeforeshecouldfinishhersentencesheheardthesoundoffootstepsveryfarapartandveryheavy.Thenextmoment,whoshouldcomerunningtowardsher,fullspeed,andaspaleasdeath,butBuffy-Bob.Sheheldoutherarms,andheranintothem.Butwhenshetriedtokisshimsheonlykissedthebackofhishead;forhiswhitefaceandroundeyeswereturnedtothedoor. “Run,children,runandhide,”saidthegiantess. “Come,Buffy,”saidTricksey;“yonder’sagreatbrake;we’llhideinit.” Thebrakewasabigbroom;andtheyhadjustgotintothebristlesofit,whentheyheardthedooropenwiththesoundofthunder,andinstalkedthegiant.Youwouldhavethoughtyousawthewholeearththroughthe
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doorwhenheopenedit,sowidewasit;and,whenheclosedit,itwaslikenightfall. “Whereisthatlittleboy?”hecried,withavoicelikethebellowingofcannon.“Helookedaveryniceboy,indeed.Iamalmostsurehecreptthroughthemouseholeatthebottomofthedoor.Whereishe,mydear?” “Idon’tknow,”saidthegiantess. “Butyouknowitiswickedtotelllies,don’tyou,dear?”retortedthegiant. “Now,youridiculousoldThunderthump,”saidhiswife,withasmileasbroadastheseainthesun;“howcanImendyourwhitestockingsandlookafterlittleboys;youhavegotplentytolastyouoverSunday,Iamsure.Justlookwhatgoodlittleboystheyare!” Tricksey-WeeandBuffy-Bobpeeredthroughthebristles,anddis-coveredarowoflittleboys,aboutadozen,withveryfatfacesandgoggleeyes,sittingbeforethefireandlookingstupidlyintoit.Thunderthumpintendedthemostoftheseforseed,andwasfeedingthemfirstbeforeplantingthem.Nowandthen,however,hecouldnotkeephisteethoffthem,andwouldeatonebytheby,andwithoutsalt. “Now,UncleBogie,youknowthat’snonsense;forlittlechildrendon’tgrowingardens.Iknow.You maybelieveintheradish-beds:I don’t.” “IneversaidIdid,”repliedUncleBogie.“Ifthegiantdid,that’senoughformystory.Itoldyouthegoodgiantsareverystupid:soyoumaythinkwhatthebadonesare.Indeed,thegiantneverreallytriedtheplan.Nodoubthedidplantthechildren,buthealwayspulledthemupandatethembeforetheyhadachanceofincreasing. Thegiantstrodeuptothewretchedchildren.Now,whatmadethemverywretchedindeedwas,thattheyknewiftheycouldonlykeepfromeating,andgrowthin,thegiantwoulddislikethem,andturnthemouttofindtheirwayhome;butnotwithstandingthis,sogreedywerethey,thattheyateasmuchasevertheycouldhold.Thegiantess,whofedthem,comfortedherselfwiththinkingthattheywerenotrealboysandgirls,butonlylittlepigspretendingtobeboysandgirls. “Nowtellmethetruth,”criedthegiant,stoopingwithhisfacedownoverthem.Theyshookwithterror,andeveryonehopeditwassomebodyelsethegiantlikedbest.“Whereisthelittleboythatranintothehalljustnow?Whoevertellsmealieshallbeinstantlyboiled.” “He’sinthebroom,”criedonedough-facedboy.“He’sinthere,andalittlegirlwithhim.”
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“Thenaughtychildren,”criedthegiant,“tohidefromme!” Andhemadeastridetowardsthebroom. “Catchholdofthebristles,Bobby.Getrightintoatuft,andholdon,”criedTricksey-Wee,justintime. Thegiantcaughtupthebroom,and,seeingnothingunderit,setitdownagainwithabangthatthrewthembothonthefloor.Buttheyweresoonupandintoitagain.Hethenmadetwostridestotheboys,caughtthedough-facedonebytheneck,tookthelidoffagreatpotthatwasboilingonthefire,poppedhiminasifhehadbeenatrussedchicken,putthelidonagain,andsaying,“There,boys!Seewhatcomesoflying!”askednomoreques-tions;for,ashealwayskepthisword,hewasafraidhemighthavetodothesametothemall;andhedidnotlikeboiledboys.Helikedtoeatthemcrisp,asradishes,whetherforkedornot,oughttobeeaten.Hethensatdown,andaskedhiswifeifhissupperwasready.Shelookedintothepot,andthrowingtheboyoutwiththeladle,asifhehadbeenablackbeetlethathadtumbledinandhadhadtheworstofit,answeredthatshethoughtitwas.Whereuponherosetohelpher;and,takingthepotfromthefire,pouredthewholecontents,bubblingandsplashing,intoadishlikeavat.Thentheysatdowntosupper.Thechildreninthebroomcouldnotseewhattheyhad;butitseemedtoagreewiththem,forthegianttalkedlikethunder,andthegiantessansweredlikethesea,andtheygrewchattierandchattier.Atlengththegiantsaid, “Idon’tfeelquitecomfortableaboutthatheartofmine.”Andasthegiantspoke,insteadoflayinghishandonhisbosom,hewaveditawaytowardsthecomerwherethechildrenwerepeepingfromthebroombristles. “Well,youknow,mydarlingThunderthump,”answeredhiswife,“Ialwaysthoughtitoughttobenearerhome.Butyouknowbest,ofcourse.” “Ha!ha!Youdon’tknowwhereitis,wife.Imoveditamonthago.” “Whatamanyouare,Thunderthump!Youtrustanycreaturealiveratherthanyourwife.”Herethegiantessgaveasobwhichsoundedexactlylikeawavegoingflopintothemouthofacaveuptotheroof. “Wherehaveyougotitnow?”sheresumed,checkingheremotion. “Well,Doodlem,Idon’tmindtellingyou,”saidthegiant,soothingly.“Thegreatsheeaglehasgotitforanest-egg.Shesitsonitnightandday,andthinksshewillbringthegreatesteagleoutofitthateversharpenedhisbeakontherocksofMountSkycrack.Icanwarrantnoonewilltouchitwhileshehasgotit.Butsheisrathercapricious,andIconfessIamnoteasyaboutit;fortheleastscratchofoneofherclawswoulddoformeatonce.Andshehas
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claws.” “Whatfunnythingsyoudomakeup,UncleBogie!Howcouldthegiant’sheartbeinaneagle’snestandthegianthimselfaliveandwellwithoutit?” “Whateveryoumaythinkofit,MasterFred,IassureyouIdidnotmakeitup.Ifiteverwasmadeup,noonecantellwhodidit;foritwaswritteninthechroniclesofGiantlandlongbeforeoneofuswasborn.Itwasquitecommon,”saidUncleBogieinaninjuredtone,“foragianttoputhisheartouttonurse,becausehedidnotlikethetroubleandresponsibilityofdoingithimself.Itwas,Iconfess,adangeroussortofthingtodo.—Butdoyouwantanymoreofmystoryornot?” “Oyes,please,”criedFrederick,veryheartily. “Thendon’tyoufindanymorefaultwithit,orIwillstop.” MasterFredwasstraightwaysilent,andUncleBogiewenton. AllthistimeBuffy-BobandTricksey-Weewerelisteningwithlongears.They didnotdisputeaboutthegiant’sheart,andimpossibility,andallthat;fortheywerebettereducatedthanMasterFred,andknewallaboutit.“Oh!”thoughtTricksey-Wee,“ifIcouldbutfindthegiant’scruelheart,wouldn’tIgiveitasqueeze!” “Thegiantandgiantesswentontalkingforalongtime.Thegiantesskeptadvisingthegianttohidehisheartsomewhereinthehouse;butheseemedafraidoftheadvantageitwouldgiveheroverhim. “Youcouldhideitatthebottomoftheflour-barrel,”saidshe. “Thatwouldmakemefeelchokey,”saidhe. “Well—inthecoal-cellar,orinthedusthole.That’stheplace!Noonewouldthinkoflookingforyourheartinthedusthole.” “Worseandworse!”criedthegiant. “Well,thewater-butt?”saidshe. “No,no;itwouldgrowspongythere,”saidhe. “Well,whatwillyoudowithit?”saidshe. “Iwillleaveitamonthlongerwhereitis,andthenIwillgiveittotheQueenoftheKangaroos,andshewillcarryitinherpouchforme.Itisbesttochange,youknow,andthenmyenemiescan’tfindit.But,dearDoodlem,it’safrettingcaretohaveaheartofone’sowntolookafter.Theresponsibilityistoomuchforme.Ifitwerenotforabiteofaradishnowandthen,Inevercouldbearit.” Herethegiantlookedlovinglytowardstherowoflittleboysbythefire,allofwhomwerenodding,orasleeponthefloor.
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“Whydon’tyoutrustittome,then,dearThunderthump?”saidhiswife,“Iwouldtakethebestpossiblecareofit.” “Idon’tdoubtit,mylove.Buttheresponsibilitywouldbetoomuchforyou.Youwouldnolongerbemydarling,light-hearted,airy,laughingDoodlem.Itwouldtransformyouintoaheavy,oppressedwoman,wearyoflife,asIam.” Thegiantclosedhiseyesandpretendedtogotosleep.Hiswifegothisstockingsandwentonwithherdarning.Soon,thegiant’spretencebecamereality,andthegiantessbegantonodoverherwork. “Now,Buffy,”saidTricksey-Wee;“now’sourtime.Ithinkit’smoonlight,andwehadbetterbeoff.There’sadoorwithaholeforthecatjustbehindus.” “Allright!I’mready,”saidBob. Sotheygotoutofthebroombrake,andcrepttothedoor.But,totheirgreatdisappointment,whentheygotthroughittheyfoundthemselvesinasortofshed.Itwasfulloftubsandthings,and,thoughitwasbuiltofwoodonly,theycouldnotfindacrack. “Letustrythishole,”saidTricksey;forthegiantandgiantessweresleepingbehindthem,andtheydarednotgoback. “Allright,”saidBob.Heseldomsaidanythingelsethanall right. “Nowthisholewasinamoundthatcameinthroughthewalloftheshedandwentalongthefloorforsomedistance.Theycrawledintoit,andfounditverydark.But,gropingtheirwayalong,theysooncametoasmallcrack,throughwhichtheysawgrass,paleinthemoonshine.Astheycrepton,theyfoundtheholebegantogetwiderandleadupwards. “Whatisthatnoiseofrushing?”saidBuffy-Bob. “Ican’ttell,”saidTricksey;“for,yousee,Idon’tknowwhatwearein.” Thefactwas,theywerecreepingalongachannelintheheartofagianttree;andthenoisetheyheardwasthenoiseofthesaprushingalonginitswoodenpipes.Whentheylaidtheirearstothewalltheyhearditgurglingalongwithapleasantnoise. “Itsoundskindandgood,”saidTricksey.“Itiswaterrunning.Nowitmustberunningfromsomewheretosomewhere.Ithinkwehadbettergoon,andweshallcomesomewhere.” Itwasnowratherdifficulttogoon,fortheyhadtoclimbasiftheywereclimbingahill,andnowthepassagewaswide.Nearlywornout,theysawlightoverheadatlast;and,creepingthroughacrackintotheopenair,
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foundthemselvesontheforkofahugetree.Agreat,broad,unevenspacelayaroundthem,outofwhichspreadboughsineverydirection,thesmallestofthemasbigasthebiggesttreeinthecountryofcommonpeople.Overheadwereleavesenoughtosupplyallthetreestheyhadeverseen.Notmuchmoonlightcouldcomethrough,buttheleaveswouldglimmerwhiteinthewindattimes.Thetreewasfullofgiantbirds.Everynowandthenonewouldsweepthroughitwithagreatnoise.But,exceptanoccasionalchirp,soundinglikeashrillpipeinagreatorgan,theymadenonoise.Allatonceanowlbegantohoot.Hethoughthewassinging.Assoonashebegan,otherbirdsreplied,makingraregameofhim.Totheirastonishment,thechildrenfoundtheycouldunderstandeverywordthebirdssang.Andwhattheysaidwassomethinglikethis:—
“Iwillsingasong. I’mtheowl.”“Singasong,yousing-song Uglyfowl!”“Whatwillyousingabout, Nowthelightisout?”
“Singaboutthenight; I’mtheowl.”“Youcouldnotseeforthelight, Stupidfowl.”“Oh!themoon!andthedew! Andtheshadows!—tu-whoo!”
Theowlspreadouthissilent,soft,slywings,andlightingbetweenTricksey-WeeandBuffy-Bob,nearlysmotheredthem,oneundereachwing.Itwaslikebeingburiedinadownbed.Buttheowldidnotlikeanythingbetweenhissidesandhiswings,soheopenedhiswingsagain,andthechildrenmadehastetogetout.Tricksey-Weeimmediatelywentinfrontofthebird,andlookingupintohishugeface,whichwasasroundastheeyesofthegiantess’sspectacles,andmuchbigger,droppedaprettycourtesy,andsaid, “Please,Mr.Owl,Iwanttowhispertoyou.” “Verywell,smallchild,”answeredtheowl,lookingimportant,andstoopinghiseartowardsher;“whatisit?” “Pleasetellmewheretheeaglelivesthatsitsonthegiant’sheart.” “Oh,younaughtychild!That’sasecret.Forshame!”
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Andwithagreathissthatterrifiedthemtheowlflewintothetree.Allbirdsarefondofsecrets;butnotmanyofthemcankeepthemsowellastheowl.Sothechildrenwentonbecausetheydidnotknowwhatelsetodo.Theyfoundthewayveryroughanddifficult,thetreewassofullofhumpsandhollows.Nowandthentheyplashedintoapoolofrain;nowandthentheycameupontwigsgrowingoutofthetrunkwheretheyhadnobusiness,andtheywereaslargeasfull-grownpoplars.Sometimestheycameupongreatcushionsofsoftmoss,andononeofthemtheylaydownandrested.Buttheyhadnotlainlongbeforetheyspiedalargenightingalesittingonabranch,withitsbrighteyeslookingupatthemoon.Inamomentmorehebegantosing,andthebirdsabouthimbegantoreply,butinaverydifferenttonefromthatinwhichtheyhadrepliedtotheowl.Oh,thebirdsdidcallthenightingalesuchprettynames!Thenightingalesangandthebirdsrepliedlikethis:—
“Iwillsingasong. I’mthenightingale.”“Singasong,longlong,
Buffy-Bob,Tricksey-Wee,andtheGiantOwlDrawnbyC.Robinson
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LittleNeverfail!”“Whatwillyousingabout, Lightinorlightout?”
“Singaboutthelight Goneaway;Downawayandoutofsight, Poorlostday;Mourningforthedaydead, O’erhisdimbed.”
Thenightingalesangsosweetlythatthechildrenwouldhavefallenasleep,butforfearoflosinganyofthesong.Whenthenightingalestopped,theygotupandwanderedon.Theydidnotknowwheretheyweregoing,buttheythoughtitbesttokeepgoingon,becausethentheymightcomeuponsomethingorother.Theywereverysorrytheyforgottoaskthenightingaleabouttheeagle’snest,buthismusichadputeverythingelseoutoftheirheads.Theyresolved,however,nottoforgetthenexttimetheyhadachance.Theywentonandontilltheywerebothtired,andTricksey-Weesaidatlasttryingtolaugh, “IdeclaremylegsfeeljustlikeaDutchdoll’s.” “Thenhere’stheplacetogotobedin,”saidBuffy-Bob. Theystoodattheedgeofalastyear’snestandlookeddownwithdelightintotheround,mossycave.Thentheycreptgentlyin,and,lyingdownineachother’sarms,founditsodeepandwarmandcomfortableandsoft,thattheyweresoonfastasleep. Nowclosebesidethem,inthehollowofatree,wasanothernest,inwhichlayalarkandhiswife;andthechildrenwereawakenedveryearlyinthemorningbyadisputebetweenMr.andMrs.Lark. “Letmeup,”saidthelark. “It’snottime,”saidthelark’swife. “Itis,”saidthelark,ratherrudely.“Thedarknessisquitethin.Icanalmostseemyownbeak.” “Nonsense!”saidthelark’swife.“Youknowyoucamehomeyesterdaymorningquitewornout,youhadtoflysoveryhighbeforeyousawhim.Iamsurehewouldnotmindifyoutookitalittleeasier.Dobequietandgotosleepagain.” “That’snotitatall,”saidthelark.“Hedoesn’twantme.Iwanthim.Letmeup,Isay.”
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Hebegantosing;andTricksey-WeeaudBuffy-Bob,havingnewlearnedtheway,answeredhim:—
“Iwillsingasong. I’mtheLark.”“Sing,sing,Throat-strong, LittleKill-the-dark.Whatwillyousingabout, Nowthenightisout?”
“Icanonlycall; Ican’tthink.Letmeup—that’sall. Letmedrink!Thirstingallthelongnight Foradrinkoflight.”
Bythistimethelarkwasstandingontheedgeofhisnestandlookingatthechildren. “Poorlittlethings!Youcan’tfly,”saidthelark. “No;butwecanlookup,”saidTricksey. “Ah!youdon’tknowwhatitistoseetheveryfirstofthesun.” “Butweknowwhatitistowaittillhecomes.He’snoworseforyourseeinghimfirst,ishe?” “Oh!no,certainlynot,”answeredthelarkwithcondescension;andthen,burstingintohisjubilate, hesprungaloft,clappinghiswingslikeaclockrunningdown. “Telluswhere,”beganBuffy-Bob. Butthelarkwasoutofsight.Hissongwasallthatwasleftofhim.Thatwaseverywhere,andhewasnowhere. “Selfishbird!”saidBuffy.“It’sallverywellforlarkstogohuntingthesun,buttheyhavenobusinesstodespisetheirneighboursforallthat.” “CanIbeofanyusetoyou?”saidasweetbird-voiceoutofthenest.Thiswasthelark’swife,whostaidathomewiththeyounglarkswhileherhusbandwenttochurch. “Oh!thankyou.Ifyouplease,”answeredTricksey-Wee. Anduppoppedaprettybrownhead;andthenupcameabrownfeatherybody;andlastofallcametheslenderlegsontotheedgeofthenest.Theresheturned,and,lookingdownintothenest,fromwhichcameawholelitanyofchirpingsforbreakfast,said,“Liestill,littleones.”Thensheturned
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tothechildren.“MyhusbandisKingoftheLarks,”shesaid. Buffy-Bobtookoffhiscap,andTricksey-Weecourtesiedverylow. “Oh,it’snotme,”saidthebird,lookingveryshy.“Iamonlyhiswife.It’smyhusband.”Andshelookedupafterhimintothesky,whencehissongwasstillfallinglikeashowerofmusicalhailstones.Perhapsshecouldseehim. “He’sasplendidbird,”saidBuffy-Bob,“onlyyouknowhewill getupalittletooearly.” “Oh,no!hedoesn’t.It’sonlyhisway,youknow.ButtellmewhatIcandoforyou?” “Tellus,please,LadyLark,wheretheshe-eaglelivesthatsitsonGiantThunderthump’sheart.” “Oh!thatisasecret.” “Didyoupromisenottotell?” “No;butlarksoughttobediscreet.Theyseemorethanotherbirds.” “Butyoudon’tflyuphigh,likeyourhusband,doyou?” “Notoften.Butit’snomatter.Icometoknowthingsforallthat.” “Dotellme,andIwillsingyouasong,”saidTricksey-Wee. “Canyousingtoo?” “Yes;andIwillsingyouasongIlearnedtheotherdayaboutalarkandhiswife.” “Pleasedo,”saidthelark’swife.“Bequiet,children,andlisten!” Tricksey-Weewasverygladshehappenedtoknowasongwhichwouldpleasethelark’swifeatleast,whateverthelarkhimselfmighthavethoughtofit,ifhehadheardit.Soshesang,
“Good-morrow,mylord!”intheskyalone,Sangthelark,asthesunascendedhisthrone.“Shineonme,mylord:Ionlyamcome,Ofallyourservants,towelcomeyouhome.Ihaveflownforanhour,rightup,Iswear,Tocatchthefirstshineofyourgoldenhair!”
“MustIthankyou,then,”saidtheking,“SirLark,Forflyingsohighandhatingthedark?Youaskafullcupforhalfathirst:Halfisloveofme,andhalflovetobefirst.There’smanyabirdthatmakesnohaste,ButwaitstillIcome.That’sasmuchtomytaste.”
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Andthekinghidhisheadinaturbanofcloud.Andthelarkstoppedsinging,quitevexedandcowed.Butheflewuphigher,andthought,“AnonThewrathofthekingwillbeoverandgone;Andhiscrown,shiningoutofthecloudyfold,Willchangemybrownfeatherstoagloryofgold.”
Soheflew,withthestrengthofalarkheflew.But,asherose,thecloudrosetoo;AndnotagleamofthegoldenhairCamethroughthedepthofthemistyair;Till,wearywithflying,withsighingsore,Thestrongsun-seekercoulddonomore.
Hiswingshadhadnochrismofgold;Andhisfeathersfeltwitheredandwornandold,Andhesank,andquivered,anddroppedlikeastone.Andthereonhisnest,wherehelefther,alone,Sathislittlewifeonherlittleeggs,Keepingthemwarmwithwingsandlegs.
DidIsayalone?Ah,nosuchthing!Fullinherfacewasshiningtheking.“Welcome,SirLark.”“Youlooktired,”saidhe,“Up isnotalwaysthebestwaytome.Whileyouhavebeensingingsohighandaway,I’vebeenshiningtoyourlittlewifeallday.”
Hehadsethiscrownallaboutthenest,Andoutofthemidstshoneherlittlebrownbreast;Andsogloriousshewasinrussetgold,ThatforwonderandaweSirLarkgrewcold.Hepoppedhisheadunderherwing,andlayAsstillasastone,tillthekingwasaway.
AssoonasTricksey-Weehadfinishedhersong,thelark’swifebeganalow,sweet,modestlittlesongofherown;andaftershehadpipedawayfortwoorthreeminutesshesaid, “Youdearchildren,whatcanIdoforyou?”
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“Telluswheretheshe-eaglelives,please,”answeredTricksey-Wee. “Well,Idon’tthinktherecanbemuchharmintellingsuchwise,goodchildren,”saidLadyLark;“Iamsureyoudon’twanttodoanymischief.” “Oh,no,quitethecontrary,”saidBuffy-Bob. “ThenI’lltellyou.ShelivesontheverytopmostpeakofMountSkycrack;andtheonlywaytogetupistoclimbonthespiders’websthatcoveritfromtoptobottom.” “That’sratherserious,”saidTricksey-Wee. “Butyoudon’twanttogoup,youfoolishlittlething.Youcan’tgo.Andwhatdoyouwanttogoupfor?” “That’soursecret,”saidTricksey-Wee. “Well,it’snobusinessofmine,”saidLadyLark,alittleoffended,andvexedthatshehadtoldthem.Sosheflewawaytofindsomebreakfastforherlittleones,whobythistimewerechirpingveryimpatiently.Thechildrenlookedateachother,joinedhands,andwalkedoff. Bythistimethesunwasup,andtheysoonreachedtheoutsideofthetree.Itwassoknobbyandrough,andfulloftwigs,thattheymanagedtogetdown,thoughnotwithoutgreatdifficulty.Farawaytothenorththeysawahugepeak,likethespireofachurch,goingrightupintothesky.TheythoughtthismustbeMountSkycrack,andturnedtheirfacestowardsit.Astheywentontheysawagiantortwonowandthenstridingaboutthefieldsorthroughthewoods;buttheykeptoutoftheirway.Norweretheyinmuchdanger;foritwasonlyoneortwoofthebordergiantsthatweresoveryfondofchildren.AtlasttheycametothefootofMountSkycrack.Itstoodinaplainalone,andshotrightup,Idon’tknowhowmanythousandfeet,intotheair,along,narrow,spearlikemountain.Thewholefaceofit,fromtoptobottom,wascoveredwithanetworkofspiders’webs,withthreadsofvarioussizes,fromthatofsilktothatofwhipcord.Thewebsshook,andquivered,andwavedinthesun,shininglikesilver.Allaboutranhuge,greedyspiders,catchinghuge,sillyfliesanddevouringthem.Heretheysatdowntoconsiderwhatcouldbedone.Thespidersdidnotheedthem,butateawayattheflies.Atthefootofthemountain,andallroundit,wasaringofwater,notverybroad,butverydeep.Now,astheysatwatching,oneofthespiders,whosewebwaswovenacrossthiswater,somehoworotherlosthisholdandfellinonhisback.Tricksey-WeeandBuffy-Bobrantohisassistance,andlayingholdeachofoneofhislegssucceeded,withthehelpoftheotherlegs,whichstraggledspiderfully,ingettinghimoutupondryland.Assoonashehad
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shakenhimselfanddriedhimselfalittle,thespiderturnedtothechildren,saying, “Andnow,whatcanIdoforyou?” “Tellus,please,”saidthey,“howwecangetupthemountaintotheshe-eagle’snest.” “Nothingeasier,”saidthespider.“JustrunupthereandtellthemallIsentyou,andnobodywillmindyou.” “Butwehaven’tgotclawslikeyou,Mr.Spider,”saidBuffy. “Ah!nomoreyouhave,poor,unprovidedcreatures!Still,Ithinkwecanmanageit.Comehomewithme.” “Youwon’teatus,willyou?”saidBuffy. “Mydearchild,”answeredtheSpider,inatoneofinjureddignity,“Ieatnothingbutwhatismischievousoruseless.Youhavehelpedme,andnowIwillhelpyou.” Thechildrenroseatonce,and,climbingaswellastheycould,reachedthespider’snestinthecentreoftheweb.Theyhadnotfounditverydifficult:forwherevertoogreatagapcamethespiderspunastrongcordandstretcheditjustwheretheywouldhavechosentoputtheirfeetnext.Helefttheminhisnest,afterbringingthemtwoenormoushoney-bags,takenfrombeesthathehadcaught.Presentlyaboutsixofthewisestofthespiderscamebackwithhim.Itwasratherhorribletoseethemallroundthemouthofthenest,lookingdownonthemincontemplation,asifwonderingwhethertheywouldbeniceeating.Atlengthoneofthemsaid, “Tellustrulywhatyouwantwiththeeagle,andwewilltrytohelpyou.” ThenTricksey-Weetoldthemthattherewasagiantontheborderswhotreatedlittlechildrennobetterthanradishes,andthattheyhadnarrowlyescapedbeingeatenbyhim;thattheyhadfoundoutthatthegreatshe-eagleofMountSkycrackwasatpresentsittingonhisheart;andthat,iftheycouldonlygetholdoftheheart,theywouldsoonteachthegiantbetterbehaviour. “But,”saidtheirhost,“ifyougetattheheartofthegiant,youwillfinditaslargeasoneofyourelephants.Whatcanyoudowithit?” “Theleastscratchwouldkillit,”saidBuffy-Bob. “Ah!butyoumightdobetterthanthat,”saidthespider.—“Nowwehaveresolvedtohelpyou.Hereisalittlebagofspider-juice.Thegiantscannotbearspiders,andthisjuiceisdreadfulpoisontothem.Weareallreadytogoupwithyouanddrivetheeagleaway.Thenyoumustputtheheartintothisotherbagandbringitdownwithyou.”
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“Buthowcanwedothat?”saidBuffy.“Thebagisnotmuchbiggerthanapudding-bag.” “Butitisaslargeasyouwillfindconvenienttocarry.” “Yes;butwhatarewetodowiththeheart?” “Putitintothebag,tobesure.Only,first,youmustsqueezeadropoutoftheotherbaguponit.Youwillseewhatwillhappen.” “Verywell,wewill,”saidTricksey-Wee.“Andnow,ifyouplease,howshallwego?” “Oh,that’sourbusiness.”saidthefirstspider.“Youcomewithme,andmygrandfatherwilltakeyourbrother.Getup.” SoTricksey-Weemountedonthenarrowpartofthespider’sback,andheldfast.AndBuffy-Bobgotonthegrandfather’sback.Anduptheyscrambled,overonewebafteranother,upandup.Andeveryspiderfollowed;sothat,whenTricksey-Weelookedback,shesawawholearmyofspidersscramblingafterthem. “Whatcanwewantwithsomany?”shethought;butshesaidnothing. Themoonwasnowup,anditwasasplendidsightbelowandaroundthem.AllGiantlandwasspreadoutunderthem,withitsgreathills,lakes,trees,andanimals.Andallabovethemwastheclearheaven,andMountSkycrackrisingintoit,withitsendlessladdersofspiderwebs,glitteringlikecordsmadeofmoonbeams.Andupthemoonbeamswent,crawling,andscrambling,andracing,ahugearmyofhugespiders. Atlengththeyreachedtheverytop,wheretheyallstopped.Tricksey-WeeandBuffy-Bobcouldseeabovethemagreatglobeoffeathers,thatfinishedoffthemountainlikeanornamentalknob. “Howshallwedriveheroff?”saidBuffy. “We’llsoonmanagethat,”saidthegrandfatherspider.“Comeon,you,downthere.” Uprushedthewholearmy,pastthechildren,overtheedgeofthenest,ontotheshe-eagle,andburiedthemselvesinherfeathers.Inamomentshebecameveryrestless,andwentpickingaboutwithherbeak.Allatonceshespreadoutherwings,withasoundlikeawhirlwind,andflewofftobatheinthesea;andthenthespidersbegantodropfromherinalldirectionsontheirgossamerwings.Thechildrenhadtoholdfastlestthewindoftheeagle’sflightshouldknockthemoff.Assoonasitwasovertheylookedintothenest,andtherelaythegiant’sheart—anawfulanduglything. “Makehaste,child,”saidTricksey’sspider.SoTrickseytookher
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bagandsqueezedadropoutofitupontheheart.Shethoughtsheheardthegiantgiveafar-offroarofpain,andshenearlyfellfromherseatwithterror.Theheartinstantlybegantoshrink.Itshrunkandshrivelledtillitwasnearlygone,andBuffy-Bobcaughtitupandputitintothebag.Thenthetwospidersturnedandwentdownagainasfastastheycould.Beforetheygottothebottomtheyheardtheshrieksoftheshe-eagleoverthelossofheregg;butthespiderstoldthemnottobealarmed,forhereyesweretoobigtoseethem.Bythetimetheyreachedthefootofthemountainallthespidershadgothome,andwerebusyagaincatchingflies,asifnothinghadhappened.Sothechildren,afterrenewedthankstotheirfriends,setoff,carryingthegiant’sheartwiththem. “Ifyoushouldfinditatalltroublesome,justgiveitalittlemorespider-juicedirectly,”saidthegrandfather,astheytooktheirleave. Now,thegiantdidgiveanawfulroarofpainthemomenttheyanointedhisheart;andfelldowninafit,andlaysolongthatalltheboysmighthaveescapediftheyhadnotbeensofat.Onedid,andgothomeinsafety.Fordaysthegiantwasunabletospeak.Thefirstwordsheutteredwere, “Oh,myheart!myheart!” “Yourheartissafeenough,dearThunderthump,”saidhiswife.“Reallyamanofyoursizeoughtnottobesonervousandapprehensive.Iamashamedofyou.” “Youhavenoheart,Doodlem,”answeredhe.“Iassureyouthatatthismomentmineisinthegreatestdanger.Ithasfallenintothehandsoffoes,thoughwhotheyareIcannottell.” Herehefaintedagain,forTricksey-Wee,findingtheheartbegintoswellalittle,hadgivenittheleasttouchofspider-juice.Againherecovered,andsaid: “DearDoodlem,myheartiscomingbacktome.Itiscomingnearerandnearer.” Afterlyingsilentforafewhours,heexclaimed, “Itisinthehouse,Iknow;”andjumpedupandwalkedabout,lookingineverycorner. Justthen,Tricksey-WeeandBuffy-Bobcameoutoftheholeinthetreeroot,andthroughthecat-holeinthedoor,andwalkedboldlytowardsthegiant.Bothkepttheireyesbusywatchinghim.Ledbytheloveofhisownheart,thegiantsoonspiedthem,andstaggeredfuriouslytowardsthem. “Iwilleatyou,youvermin!”hecried.“Givememyheart.”
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Trickseygavetheheartasharppinch,anddownfellthegiantonhisknees,blubbering,andcrying,andbeggingforhisheart. “Youshallhaveitifyoubehaveyourselfproperly,”saidTricksey. “Whatdoyouwantmetodo?”saidhe,whimpering. “Takeallthoseboysandgirlsandcarrythemhomeatonce?” “I’mnotable;I’mtooill.” “Takethemupdirectly.” “Ican’t,tillyougivememyheart.” “Verywell,”saidTricksey;andshegavetheheartanotherpinch. Thegiantjumpedtohisfeet,and,catchingupallthechildren,thrustsomeintohiswaistcoatpockets,someintohisbreast-pocket,puttwoorthreeintohishat,andabundleoftheminhisarms.Thenhestaggeredtothedoor.AllthistimepoorDoodlemwassittinginherarmchair,crying,andmendingawhitestocking. Thegiantledthewaytotheborders.Hecouldnotgoveryfast,andBuffyandTrickseymanagedtokeepupwithhim.Whentheyreachedtheborders,theythoughtitwouldbesafertoletthechildrenfindtheirownwayhome.Sotheytoldhimtosetthemdown.Heobeyed. “Haveyouputthemthemalldown,Mr.Thunderthump?”askedTricksey-Wee. “Yes,”saidthegiant. “That’salie,”criedasqueakingvoice;andoutcameaheadfromhisleftwaistcoatpocket. Tricksey-Weepinchedthehearttillthegiantroaredwithpain. “You’renotagentleman.Youtellstories,”shesaid. “Hewasthethinnestofthelot,”saidThunderthump,crying. “Areyoualltherenow,children?”askedTricksey. “Yes,Ma’am,”saidthey,aftercountingthemselvesverycarefully,andwithsomedifficulty;fortheywereallstupidchildren. “Now,”saidTricksey-Weetothegiant,“willyoupromisetocarryoffnomorechildren,andnevertoeatachildagainallyourlife?” “Yes,yes!Ipromise,”answeredThunderthump,sobbing. “AndyouwillnevercrossthebordersofGiantland?” “Never!” “AnddoyoupromisenevertoagainwearwhitestockingsonSundayallyourlifelong?” Thegianthesitatedatthisandbegantoexpostulate;butTricksey-Wee,believingitwouldbegoodforhismorals,insisted;andthegiant
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promised. Thenshedemandedthat,ifshegavehimbackhisheart,heshouldgiveittohiswifetotakecareofforhimforeverafter.Thepoorgiantfellonhiskneesandbeganagaintobeg;butTricksey-Weegivingtheheartaslightpinch,hebawledout, “Yes,yes!Doodlemshallhaveit,Iswear.Onlyshemustnotputitintheflour-barrel,orinthedusthole.” “Certainlynot.Makeyourownbargainwithher.—Andyoupromisenottointerferewithmybrotherandme,ortotakeanyrevengeforwhatwehavedone?” “Yes,yes!mydearchildren;Ipromiseeverything.Do,pray,makehasteandgivemebackmypoorheart.” “Waitthere,then,tillIbringittoyou.” “Yes,yes.Onlymakehaste,forIfeelveryfaint.” Tricksey-Weebegantoundothemouthofthebag.ButBuffy-Bob,whohadgotveryknowingonhistravels,tookouthisknifewiththepretenceofcuttingthestring,butinrealitytobepreparedforanyemergency.Nosoonerwastheheartoutofthebagthanitexpandedtothesizeofabullock;andthegiant,withayellofrageandvengeance,rushedonthetwochildren,whohadsteppedsidewaysfromtheterribleheart.ButBuffy-BobwastooquickforThunderthump.Hesprangtotheheartandburiedhisknifeinituptothehilt.Afountainofbloodspoutedfromit;and,withadreadfulgroan,thegiantfelldeadatthefeetoflittleTricksey-Wee,whocouldnothelpbeingsorryforhimafterall. “Sillything!”saidonelittlewisehead. “Whatahorridstory!”saidlittleGoblin,stillstaringintothefire. “Nowdarlings,gotobedanddreamaboutit,”saidoneofthemothers. “No,thankyou,mamma;Ihadrathernot,”saidanoldergirl.“Idon’tthinkitatallanicestoryforsupper,withthosehorridspiders,too.” “Well,youmustgotobednow,anyhow.” “Moresing,first,mamma,moresing,”pleadedaverylittleone,who,notunderstandingthestory,hadyetbeenpleasedwiththebitofverseinit. “Well,askUncleBogie.” “Moresing,UncleBodie,please.” “Yes,mydarling,”saidUncleBogie,liftingheronhisknee.“Youshallhavemoresing.” Sohethoughtforalittle,andthenrepeatedthefollowingverses:—
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The Owl and the Bell“Bing, Bim,Bang,Bome!”SangtheBelltohimselfinhishouseathome,Upinthetower,aloneandunseen,Inatwilightofivy,coolandgreen;WithhisBing,Bim,Bang,Bome!Singingbasstohimselfinhishouseathome.
SaidtheOwltohimself,ashesatbelowOnawindow-ledge,likeaballofsnow,“Pestonthatfellow,sittingupthere,Alwayscallingthepeopletoprayer!WithhisBing,Bim,Bang,Bome!Mightybiginhishouseathome!
“Iwouldmove,”saidtheOwl,“butitsuitsmewell;Andonemaygetusedtoit,whocantell?”Sohesleptinthedaywithallhismight,Androseandflappedoutinthehushofnight,Whenthebellwasasleepinhistowerathome,DreamingoverhisBing,Bang,Bome!
Fortheowlwasbornsopoorandgenteel,Hewasforcedfromthefirsttopickandsteal;Hescornedtoworkforhonestbread;“Betterhaveneverbeenhatched!”hesaid.Sohesleptallday;forhedarednotroamTillnighthadsilencedtheBing,Bang,Bome!
Whenhissixlittledarlingshadchippedtheegg,Hemuststealthemore:’twasashametobeg.Andtheyatethemorethattheydidnotsleepwell:“It’stheirgizzards,”saidMa;saidPa,“It’sthebell!Fortheyquiverlikeleavesinawind-blowntome,WhenthebellbellowsouthisBing,Bang,Bome!”
ButtheBellbegantothrobwiththefearOfbringingthehouseabouthisoneear;
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Andhispeoplewerepatchingalldaylong,Andproppingthewallstomakethemstrong.Soafortnighthesat,andfeltlikeamome,ForhedarednotshouthisBing,Bang,Bome!
SaidtheOwltohimself,andhissedashesaid,“Idobelievetheoldfoolisdead.Now—now,Ivow,Ishallneverpouncetwice;Andstealingshallbeallsugarandspice.ButI’llseethecorpse,erehe’slaidintheloam,AndshoutinhisearBing,Bim,Bang,Bome!
“Hoo!hoo!”hecried,asheenteredthesteeple,“They’vehangedhimatlast,therighteouspeople!Hisswollentonguehangsoutofhishead;Iamsureatlasttheoldbruteisdead.Therelethimhang,theshapelessgnome!Choked,withhisthroatfullofBing,Bang,Bome!”
Sohedancedabouthim,singingToo-whoo!AndflappedthepoorBell,andsaid,“Isthatyou?Whereisyourvoicewithitswonderfultone,Bangingpoorowls,andmakingthemgroan?Afigforyounow,inyourgreathall-dome!Too-whoo!isbetterthanBing,Bang,Bome!”
Sobravewastheowl,thedownyanddapper,Thatheflewinside,andsatontheclapper;AndheshoutedToo-whoo!tilltheechoawoke,Likethesoundofaghostlyclapper-stroke:“Ah!ha!”quoththeOwl,“Iamquiteathome—IwilltakeyourplacewithmyBing,Bang,Bome!”
TheOwlwasupliftedwithprideandself-wonder;Hehissed,andcalledtheechothunder;Andhesatthemonarchoffeatheredfowl;Till—Bang!wenttheBell—anddownwenttheowl,Likeanavalancheoffeathersandfoam,
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LoosedbytheboomingBing,Bang,Bome!
Hesatwherehefell,asifnoughtwasthematter,Thoughoneofhiseyebrowswascertainlyflatter.Saidoneoftheowlets,“Pa,youwerewrong;He’satitagainwithhisvulgarsong.”“Bestill,”saidtheOwl;“you’reguiltyofpride.Ibroughthimtolifebyperchinginside.”
“Butwhy,mydear?”saidhispillowywife;“Youknowhewasalwaystheplagueofyourlife.”“Ihavegivenhimalessonofgoodforevil;Perhapstheoldruffianwillnowbecivil.”TheOwllookedrighteous,andraisedhiscomb,ButtheBellbawledonhisBing,Bang,Bome. “Now!youmustgotobed,now.” Inthisallthemammaswereofonemind;so,aftervariousandelaborateGood-nights, thelittleoneswentofftosleep,and,Iamafraid,todream.
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