HISTORICAL SERIES—BOOK IV PART I

STORIES
OF THE OLDEN TIME

COMPILED AND ARRANGED

By JAMES JOHONNOT

NEW YORK CINCINNATI CHICAGO

AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY

Copyright, 1889,

By D. APPLETON AND COMPANY

E. P. 12

PREFACE.

When we go back to the early history of any people, we find that fact and fiction are strangely blended, and that the stories told are largely made up of traditions distorted and exaggerated by imagination and time. The myth, however, is valuable as representing the first steps of a nation in the evolution of its literature from a barbaric state, and as indicating special national characteristics.

The myths of Greece, for example, are chiefly derived from the traditions extant when the alphabet was invented, and are preserved in the poetic stories of Homer and Virgil. Combined, they make that mythology which grew up in Greece, and which now so largely permeates the literature of every civilized language.

The first stories given in this book are myths. They stand first in the order of precedence because they stand first in the order of time.

The myths are followed by a few parables and fables, forms of stories which from the earliest times have been used to apply some well-established principle of morals to practical conduct.

Next follow legends, where we are called upon to separate the probable from the improbable, the true from the false. Herodotus, the father of history, wrote his account of the "Persian Empire" several hundred years after the events took place which he has recorded. The stories had been preserved to his day by tradition.

In the traditional stories and in the truer records which follow, the pupil will see the play of the same emotions and passions which actuate men at the present time, and the careers of the great conquerors, Frederic and Napoleon, differ little essentially from those of Alexander and Cæsar. Tyranny remains the same forever, encroaching upon human liberty and limiting the field of human conduct. It will be seen also that from the state of barbarism there has been a gradual evolution which more and more places men under the protection of equal laws.

These books are to be used mainly for the stories they contain. By a simple reproduction in speech or in writing, we have the best possible language lesson. The value of the books may be entirely lost by catechisms which demand the literal reproduction of the text.

CONTENTS.

I.—ARION.

1. Arion was a famous musician, and dwelt at the court of Periander, King of Corinth, with whom he was a great favorite. There was a musical contest in Sicily, and Arion longed to compete for the prize. He told his wish to Periander, who besought him like a brother to give up the thought. "Pray stay with me," he said, "and be contented. He who strives to win may lose." Arion answered: "A wandering life best suits the free heart of a poet. A talent which a god bestowed upon me I would fain make a source of pleasure to others; and if I win the prize, how will the enjoyment of it be increased by the consciousness of my wide-spread fame!"

2. He went, won the prize, and embarked with his wealth in a Corinthian vessel for home. On the second morning after setting sail, the wind breathed mild and fair. "O Periander!" he exclaimed, "dismiss your fears. Soon shall you forget them in my embrace. With what lavish offerings will we display our gratitude to the gods, and how merry will we be at the festal board!" The wind and sea continued favorable, not a cloud dimmed the firmament. He had not trusted too much to the ocean, but to man he had. He overheard the seamen plotting to get possession of his treasure. Presently they surrounded him, loud and mutinous, and said: "Arion, you must die! If you would have a grave on the shore, yield yourself to die on this spot; but if otherwise, cast yourself into the sea."

3. "Will nothing satisfy you but my life?" said he; "take my gold in welcome. I willingly buy my life at that price." "No, no; we can not spare you. Your life would be too dangerous to us. Where could we go to escape Periander if he should know that you had been robbed by us? Your gold would be of little use to us, if, on returning home, we could never more be free from fear." "Grant me, then," said he, "a last request, since naught will prevail to save my life, that I may die as I have lived, as becomes a bard. When I shall have sung my death-song, and my harp-strings cease to vibrate, then I will bid farewell to life, and yield to my fate." This prayer, like the others, would have been unheeded—they thought only of their booty—but to hear so famous a musician moved their hearts. "Suffer me," he added, "to arrange my dress. Apollo will not favor me unless I am clad in my minstrel garb."

4. He clothed himself in gold and purple, fair to see, his tunic fell around him in graceful folds, jewels adorned his arms, his brow was crowned with a golden wreath, and over his neck and shoulders flowed his hair, perfumed with odors. His left hand held the lyre, his right the ivory wand with which he struck the chords. Like one inspired he seemed to drink the morning air and glitter in the morning ray. The seamen gazed in admiration. He strode forward to the vessel's side, and looked down into the blue sea.

5. Addressing his lyre, he sang: "Companion of my voice, come with me to the realm of shades! Though Cerberus may growl, we know the power of song can tame his rage. Ye heroes of Elysium, who have passed the darkling flood—ye happy souls, soon shall I join your band. Yet can ye relieve my grief? Alas! I leave my friend behind me. Thou, who didst find thy Eurydice, and lose her again as soon as found, when she had vanished like a dream, how thou didst hate the cheerful light! I must away, but I will not fear. The gods look down upon us. Ye who slay me unoffending, when I am no more your time of trembling shall come! Ye Nereids, receive your guest, who throws himself upon your mercy!" So saying, he sprang into the deep sea. The waves covered him, and the seamen held their way, fancying themselves safe from all danger of detection.

6. But the strains of his music had drawn around him the inhabitants of the deep to listen, and dolphins followed the ship as if charmed by a spell. While he struggled in the waves a dolphin offered him its back, and carried him mounted thereon safe to shore. At the spot where he landed, a monument of brass was afterward erected upon the rocky shore to preserve the memory of the event.

7. When Arion and the dolphin parted, each returning to his own element, Arion thus poured forth his thanks: "Farewell, thou faithful, friendly fish! Would that I could reward thee! but thou canst not wend with me, nor I with thee; companionship we may not have. May Galatea, queen of the deep, accord thee her favor, and thou, proud of the burden, draw her chariot over the smooth mirror of the deep!"

Arion and the Dolphin.

8. Arion hastened from the shore, and soon saw before him the towers of Corinth. He journeyed on, harp in hand, singing as he went, full of love and happiness, forgetting his losses, and mindful only of what remained, his friend and his lyre. He entered the hospitable halls, and was soon clasped in the embrace of Periander. "I come back to thee, my friend," he said. "The talent which a god bestowed has been the delight of thousands, but false knaves have stripped me of my well-earned treasure." Then he told all the wonderful events that had befallen him. Periander, who heard him in amazement, said: "Shall such wickedness triumph? Then in vain is power lodged in my hands. That we may discover the criminals you must lie here concealed, so that they come without suspicion."

9. When the ship arrived in the harbor, he summoned the mariners before him. "Have you heard anything of Arion?" he inquired. "I anxiously look for his return." They replied, "We left him well and prosperous in Tarentum." As they said these words, Arion stepped forth and faced them. He was clad in all his glory as when he leaped into the sea. They fell prostrate at his feet, as if a lightning-bolt had struck them. "We meant to murder him, and he has become a god! O earth, open and receive us!" Then Periander spoke: "He lives, the master of the lay! kind Heaven protects the poet's life. As for you, I invoke not the spirit of vengeance; Arion wishes not your blood. Ye slaves of avarice, begone! Seek some barbarous land, and never may aught beautiful delight your souls!"

II.—ARACHNE.

1. In the old mythology it was considered a great sin for any mortal to enter into a contest with a god, and whenever one did so he incurred a fearful penalty. The maiden Arachne early showed marvelous skill in embroidery and all kinds of needle-work. So beautiful were her designs that the nymphs themselves would leave their groves and fountains, and come and gaze delighted upon her work. It was not only beautiful when it was done, but was beautiful in the doing. As they watched the delicate touch of her fingers they declared that the goddess Minerva must have been her teacher. This Arachne denied, and, grown very vain of her many compliments, she said: "Let Minerva try her skill with mine, and if beaten I will pay the penalty!"

2. Minerva heard this, and was greatly displeased at the vanity and presumption of the maiden. Assuming the form of an old woman she went to Arachne and gave her some friendly advice. "I have much experience," she said, "and I hope you will not despise my counsel. Challenge mortals as much as you like, but do not try and compete with a goddess!" Arachne stopped her spinning, and angrily replied: "keep your counsel for your daughters and handmaids; for my part, I know what I say, and I stand to it. I am not afraid of the goddess."

3. Minerva then dropped her disguise, and stood before the company in her proper person. The nymphs at once paid her homage. Arachne alone had no fear. She stood by her resolve, and the contest proceeded. Each took her station, and attached the web to the beam. Both worked with speed; their skillful hands moved rapidly, and the excitement of the contest made the labor light.

4. Minerva wrought into her web the scene of her contest with Neptune. The gods are all represented in their most august forms, and the picture is noble in its perfect simplicity and chaste beauty. In the four corners she wrought scenes where mortals entered into contest with gods and were punished for their presumption. These were meant as warnings to her rival to give up the contest before it was too late.

5. Arachne filled her web with subjects designedly chosen to exhibit the failings and errors of the gods. Every story to their discredit she appears to have treasured up. The last scene she represented was that of Jupiter in the form of a bull carrying off Europa across the sea, leaving the heart-broken mother to wander in search of her child until she died.

6. Minerva examined the work of her rival, and doubly angry at the presumption and the sacrilege manifested in her choice of subjects, struck her web with a shuttle and tore it from the loom. She then touched the forehead of Arachne and made her feel her guilt and shame. This she could not endure, and went out and hanged herself. Minerva pitied her, as she saw her hanging by a rope. "Live, guilty woman," said she; "and that you may preserve the memory of this lesson, continue to hang, you and your descendants, to all future times." She sprinkled her with the juice of aconite, and immediately her form shrunk up, her head grew small, and her fingers grew to her sides and served as legs. All the rest of her is body, out of which she spins her thread, often hanging suspended by it in the same attitude as when Minerva touched her and transformed her into a spider.

III.—POLYPHEMUS.

1. When Troy was captured, Ulysses, the King of Ithaca, set sail for his native country. With favorable winds he should have reached home in a few months, but he met with so many adventures that it was ten years before he saw the shores of his beloved Ithaca. At one time he and his companions landed upon an unknown shore in search of food. Ulysses took with him a jar of wine as a present should he meet with any inhabitants. Presently they came to a large cave, and entered it. There they found lambs and kids in their pens, and a table spread with cheese, fruits, and bowls of milk. But soon the master of the cave, Polyphemus, returned, and Ulysses saw that they were in the land of the Cyclops, a race of immense giants. The name means "round eye," and these giants were so called because they had but one eye, and that was placed in the middle of the forehead.

2. Polyphemus drove into the cave the sheep and the goats to be milked, and then placed a huge rock at the mouth of the cave to serve as a door. While attending to his supper he chanced to spy the Greeks, who were hidden in one corner. He growled out to them, demanding to know who they were, and where from. Ulysses replied, stating that they were returning from the siege of Troy, and that they had landed in search of provisions. At this Polyphemus gave no answer, but seizing a couple of Greeks, he killed and ate them up on the spot. He then went to sleep, and his snoring sounded like thunder in the ears of the terrified Greeks all the livelong night. In the morning the giant arose, ate two more men, and went out with his flocks, having carefully secured the door so that the remainder could not get away.

3. Then Ulysses contrived a plan to punish the giant, and get away from his clutches. He found a great bar of wood which the giant had cut for a staff. This his men sharpened at one end and hardened at the fire. Then a number were selected to use it, and they awaited events. In the evening Polyphemus returned, and having eaten his two men he lay down to sleep. But Ulysses presented him with some of the wine from the jar which the giant eagerly drank, and called for more. In a short time he was quite drunk, and then he asked Ulysses his name, and he replied: "My name is Noman."

Polyphemus.

4. When the giant was fairly asleep, the sailors seized the sharpened stick, and, aiming it directly at his single eye, they rushed forward with all their might. The eye was put out, and the giant was left blind. He felt around the cave trying to catch his tormentors, but they contrived to get out of his way. He then howled so loud that his neighbors came to see what was the matter, when he said, "I am hurt, Noman did it!" Then they said, "If no man did it, we can not help you." So they went home, leaving him groaning.

5. In the morning Polyphemus rolled away the stone to let out his sheep and goats, and the Greeks contrived to get out with them without being discovered. Once out, they lost no time in driving the flocks down to the shore, and then with their vessels well provisioned they set sail once more for their native land.

IV.—ULYSSES'S RETURN.

Ulysses and his Dog.

1. Ulysses, the lord of Ithaca, went to assist the Greeks in the siege of Troy. For ten long years the war lasted, and when Troy fell, Ulysses was ten more years in reaching his home. He met with so many accidents and adventures that delayed him, that even his stout heart almost gave out as he thought of the wife and children waiting for him through all these weary years. In the mean time his son Telemachus had grown to manhood, and had gone in search of his father.

2. During all this time his wife, Queen Penelope, never lost hope, but lived daily looking for her husband to come sailing over the sea. But while the master was away, more than a hundred young lords laid claim to the hand of Penelope, so as to obtain the power and riches of Ulysses. They lorded it over the palace and people as if they were the owners of both, and they paid no attention to the wishes of Penelope, as she was but a woman, and could not protect herself. Her only safety lay in the fact that the suitors were jealous of each other, and no one could make any advance until Penelope had made her selection.

3. At last Ulysses returned in the disguise of a beggar. No one knew him except his old dog Argus, who, in his excess of joy, died while licking his hands. He made himself known to Eumæus, a faithful servant, and by him was presented to Telemachus, who had just returned. Great was the joy of father and son at thus meeting each other. Then the three laid a plan to punish the suitors and to rid Ithaca of their presence. In carrying out this plan, Telemachus went to his mother's palace publicly, and the suitors bade him welcome, though they secretly hated him, and had tried to take his life. Here he found feasting going on, and, at his request, the supposed beggar was admitted to the foot of the table.

4. Penelope had put off her decision on various pretexts until now, when there appeared no other reason for delay. So she announced that she would accept the one who would shoot an arrow through twelve rings arranged in a line. A bow formerly used by Ulysses was brought in and all other arms removed. All things being ready, the first thing to be done was to attach the string to the bow, which required the bow to be bent. Telemachus tried and failed. Then each of the suitors tried in turn, and all failed. They even rubbed the bow with tallow, but it would not bend.

5. Here Ulysses spoke and said: "Beggar as I am, I once was a soldier, and there is some strength in these old limbs of mine yet. Let me try." The suitors hooted at him, and would have turned him out of the hall; but Telemachus said it was best to gratify the old man, and so put the bow in his hand. Ulysses took it and easily adjusted the cord. Then he selected an arrow and sent it through the twelve rings at the first shot. Before the suitors recovered from their astonishment he sent another through the heart of the most insolent of them. Telemachus, Eumæus, and another faithful servant sprang to their aid. The suitors looked around for arms, but there were none. Ulysses did not let them remain long in doubt; he announced himself as the long-lost chief whose house they had invaded, whose substance they had squandered, and whose wife and son they had persecuted for ten long years, and told them he meant to have ample vengeance. All the suitors were slain but two, and Ulysses was left master of his own palace and the possessor of his kingdom and wife.

Penelope and Ulysses's Bow.

V.—THOR'S VISIT TO JOTUNHEIM.

1. Thor, the god of the Northmen, who always carried a hammer to make his way or obtain his wishes, heard of the giant's country, Jotunheim, of which Utgard was the capital, and he resolved on a visit to that region to try his strength with any one whom he might find. So, accompanied by his servants, Thiolfi and Loki, he set out. Thiolfi was of all men the swiftest on foot. At nightfall they took refuge from a storm in a very large building which they imperfectly saw in the dim light, but were kept awake by loud thunder which shook their abode like an earthquake. In the morning it was found that the thunder was the snoring of a huge giant sleeping near by, and that the building in which they had taken shelter was the giant's glove.

2. The giant, whose name was Skrymer, knew Thor, and proposed that they should travel together, to which the god consented. At night they encamped, and soon the giant was asleep. Thor, finding that he could not untie the provision-bag which the giant had carried all day, went into a rage and struck the sleeper a mighty blow with, his hammer. Skrymer awoke and said, "The leaves are falling, for one just now fell upon my breast." They lay down again, and soon the giant began to snore so loud that Thor could get no sleep, so he grasped the hammer in both hands and dealt him another blow. Skrymer awoke and called out, "How fares it with thee, Thor? A bird must be overhead—a bunch of moss has just now fallen upon me." Just before daylight Thor thought that he would end this matter then, so he seized his hammer and threw it with all his might. Skrymer awoke, and stroking his cheek said, "An acorn fell upon my head. But let us be stirring, as we have a long day before us."

3. When within sight of the city Skrymer turned off, as his route lay in another direction, and soon Thor and his companions were in presence of the giant king. Addressing Thor, the king asked if he or his companions could do anything better than others, for he said that no one was permitted to remain in the city unless he excelled in something.

4. Loki, who was a great eater, proposed a feast, and the king called Logi to come out and compete with him. A trough filled with meat was placed in the midst of the hall, and Loki beginning at one end soon ate all the flesh to the middle of the trough; but it was found that Logi had devoured both flesh and bones and the trough to boot. So the company adjudged Loki vanquished.

5. Next Thiolfi presented himself to run a race, and the king brought out a young man named Hugi to run with him. Hugi ran over the course and turning back met Thiolfi but just started. Then the king remarked that if Thor could not do better than his servants, it were well that he stay at home. Then a drinking-match was proposed, and a drinking horn was brought in. It was not very large, but was of great length, and the king remarked that any one of his subjects ought to empty it at a single draught, but none would fail to do so in three draughts. Thor drank long and deep, but the horn was as full as before; a second trial met with a similar failure. Then Thor straightened himself for a mighty effort and drank as the thirsty earth drinks of the rains from heaven. The liquor was diminished, but still the horn was nearly full. "I perceive," said the king, "that thou canst not be very thirsty, or thou wouldst drink more."

6. "What new trial do you propose?" said Thor. "We have a trifling game here," said the king, "in which we exercise none but children. It consists in merely lifting my cat from the ground, and I should not have mentioned it to the great Thor if I had not observed that thou art by no means what we took thee for." As he finished speaking, a large gray cat sprang into the hall. Thor put forth all his mighty strength three times without lifting her, though on the third trial one foot was raised from the floor.

7. "Well," said the king, "only one trial remains for thee. Thou must wrestle with somebody, and after thy failures to-day none of our men will wrestle with thee." So saying, the king called upon his old nurse, a toothless crone, shaking and trembling on the edge of the grave. Thor grasped her and put forth a mighty effort, but the old woman stood fast. At last she grasped him in turn, and he was thrown upon his knee. The king here interfered, and the contests came to an end. The travelers, however, were royally entertained, and after a good night's rest, and a bountiful breakfast, they bade the king good-by, and set out on their return.

8. Toward night they overtook a traveler, who proved to be Skrymer, their former companion and guide, and they encamped together in the very wood where they passed their first night together. The giant, perceiving the dejected looks of Thor, said, "Something appears to trouble thee; has thy journey gone amiss?" Thereupon Thor related the whole story of his failures. "Then," said the giant, "take heart, for thou hast performed great wonders, but hast been the victim of delusions. Observe me closely!" Thor looked, and saw that Skrymer and the king were one and the same person.

9. "Now," said the king, "Loki devoured all that was set before him, but Logi was Fire, and consumed trough and all. Hugi, with whom Thiolfi was running, was Thought, and not the swiftest runner can keep pace with that. The horn that thou failedst to empty had its lower end in the sea, and thou wilt see how the very ocean is lowered by thy draught. The cat is the animal that bears up the world, and thy last mighty effort caused the solid earth to shake as with an earthquake. The old woman with whom thou wrestledst was old age, and she throws everybody." The king then pointed out the place where Thor dealt his blows on the night of their first meeting, and lo! three mighty chasms showed where the solid mountains had been rent asunder.

PARABLES AND FABLES.

VI.—THE WOLF AND THE DOG.

lean, hungry wolf, fell in one moonlight night with a jolly, plump, well-fed mastiff, and after the first greetings were passed, the wolf accosted him: "You look extremely well," said he, "I think I never saw a more graceful, comely personage; but how comes it about, I beseech you, that you should live so much better than I? I may say, without vanity, that I venture fifty times more than you do, and yet I am almost ready to perish with hunger." The dog answered very bluntly: "Why, you may live as well as I if you will do the same services for it." The wolf pricked up his ears at the proposal, and requested to be informed what he must do to earn such plentiful meals. "Very little," answered the dog; "only to guard the house at night, and keep it from thieves and beggars." "With all my heart," rejoined the wolf, "for at present I have but a sorry time of it; and, I think, to change my hard lodging in the woods, where I endure rain, frost, and snow, for a warm roof over my head and plenty of food, will be no bad bargain." "True," said the dog, "therefore, you have nothing more to do than to follow me."

2. As they were jogging along together, the wolf spied a circle, worn round his friend's neck, and, being almost as curious as some of a higher species, he could not forbear asking what it meant. "Pooh! nothing," said the dog, "or at most a mere trifle." "Nay, but pray," urged the wolf, "inform me." "Why, then," said the dog, "perhaps it is the collar to which my chain is fastened; for I am sometimes tied up in the day-time, because I am a little fierce, and might bite people, and am only let loose at night. But this is done with design to make me sleep in the day, more than anything else, that I may watch the better in the night-time. As soon as the twilight appears, I am turned loose, and may go where I please. Then my master brings me plates of bones from the table with his own hands; and whatever scraps are left by the family fall to my share, for you must know I am a favorite with everybody. So, seeing how you are to live, come along! Why, what is the matter with you?" "I beg your pardon," replied the wolf, "but you may keep your happiness to yourself. I am resolved to have no share in your dinners. Half a meal, with liberty, is, in my estimation, worth a full one without it."

VII.—PARABLE OF THE LABORERS IN THE
VINEYARD.

1. For the kingdom of heaven is like unto a man that is a householder, which went out early in the morning to hire laborers into his vineyard.

2. And when he had agreed with the laborers for a penny a day, he sent them into his vineyard.

3. And he went out about the third hour, and saw others standing idle in the market-place,

4. And said unto them; go ye also into the vineyard, and whatsoever is right I will give you. And they went their way.

5. Again he went out about the sixth and ninth hour, and did likewise.

6. And about the eleventh hour he went out, and found others standing idle, and saith unto them, Why stand ye here all the day idle?

7. They say unto him, because no man hath hired us. He saith unto them, go ye also into the vineyard; and whatsoever is right, that shall ye receive.

8. So when even was come, the lord of the vineyard saith unto his steward, call the laborers, and give them their hire, beginning from the last unto the first.

9. And when they came that were hired about the eleventh hour, they received every man a penny.

10. But when the first came, they supposed that they should have received more; and they likewise received every man a penny.

11. And when they had received it, they murmured against the good man of the house,

12. Saying, These last have wrought but one hour, and thou hast made them equal unto us, which have borne the burden and heat of the day.

13. But he answered one of them, and said, Friend, I do thee no wrong: didst not thou agree with me for a penny?

14. Take that thine is, and go thy way: I will give unto this last, even as unto thee.

15. Is it not lawful for me to do what I will with mine own? Is thine eye evil, because I am good?

16. So the last shall be first, and the first last: for many be called, but few chosen.

(St. Matthew, xx. 1–16.)

VIII.—PARABLE OF THE SOWER AND THE SEED.

1. The same day went Jesus out of the house, and sat by the sea side.

2. And great multitudes were gathered together unto him, so that he went into a ship, and sat; and the whole multitude stood on the shore.

3. And he spake many things unto them in parables, saying, Behold, a sower went forth to sow;

4. And when he sowed, some seeds fell by the way-side, and the fowls came and devoured them up:

5. Some fell upon stony places, where they had not much earth: and forthwith they sprung up, because they had no deepness of earth:

6. And when the sun was up, they were scorched; and because they had no root, they withered away.

7. And some fell among thorns; and the thorns sprung up, and choked them:

8. But other fell into good ground, and brought forth fruit, some a hundred-fold, some sixty-fold, some thirty-fold.

9. Who hath ears to hear, let him hear.

10. And the disciples came, and said unto him, Why speakest thou unto them in parables?

11. He answered and said unto them, Because it is given unto you to know the mysteries of the kingdom of heaven, but to them it is not given.

A Sower went forth to Sow.

12. For whosoever hath, to him shall be given, and he shall have more abundance: but whosoever hath not, from him shall be taken away even that he hath.

13. Therefore speak I to them in parables: because they seeing see not; and hearing they hear not, neither do they understand.

(St. Matthew xiii, 1–13.)

IX.—PAIRING-TIME ANTICIPATED.

1. I shall not ask Jean Jacques Rousseau
If birds confabulate or no;
'Tis clear that they were always able
To hold discourse,—at least in fable;
And even the child, who knows no better
Than to interpret by the letter
A story of a cock and bull,
Must have a most uncommon skull.

2. It chanced then on a winter's day,
But warm and bright and calm as May,
The birds, conceiving a design
To forestall sweet Saint Valentine,
In many an orchard, copse, and grove,
Assembled on affairs of love,
And with much twitter and much chatter,
Began to agitate the matter.

3. At length a bull-finch, who could boast
More years and wisdom than the most,
Entreated, opening wide his beak
A moment's liberty to speak,
And silence publicly enjoined,
Briefly delivered thus his mind:
"My friends! be cautious how ye treat
The subject upon which we meet;
I fear we shall have winter yet."

4. A finch, whose tongue knew no control,
With golden wings and satin poll,
A last year's bird, who ne'er had tried
What marriage means, thus pert, replied:
"Methinks the gentleman," quoth she,
"Opposite in the apple-tree,
By his good will, would keep us single
'Till yonder heaven and earth shall mingle,
Or, what is likelier to befall,
'Till death exterminate us all.
I marry without more ado!
My dear Dick Redcap, what say you?"

5. Dick heard, and tweedling, ogling, bridling,
Turning short round, strutting and sidling,
Attested glad his approbation
Of an immediate conjugation.
Their sentiments so well expressed,
Mightily influenced all the rest.
All paired and each pair built a nest.

6. But though the birds were thus in haste,
The leaves came out not quite so fast,
And destiny, that sometimes bears
An aspect stern on men's affairs,
Not altogether smiled on their's.
The wing of late breathed gently forth,
Now shifted east and east by north.
Bare trees and shrubs, but ill, you know
Could shelter them from rain or snow.

7. Stepping into their nests they paddled;
Themselves were chilled, their eggs were addled;
Soon every father bird and mother,
Grew quarrelsome and pecked each other,
Parted without the least regret—
Except that they had ever met—
And learned in future to be wiser
Than to neglect a good adviser.

8. Moral:
Misses, the tale that I relate,
This moral seems to carry—
Choose not alone a proper mate,
But proper time to marry.

Cowper.

LEGENDS.

X.—THE GIFT OF TRITEMIUS.

1. Tritemius, of Herbipolis, one day,
While kneeling at the altar's foot to pray,
Alone with God, as was his pious choice,
Heard from without a miserable voice,
A sound which seemed of all sad things to tell,
As of a lost soul crying out of hell.

2. Thereat the abbot paused; the chain whereby
His thoughts went upward broken by that cry;
And, looking from the casement, saw below
A wretched woman, with gray hair a-flow,
And withered hands held up to him, who cried
For alms as one who might not be denied.

The gift of Tritemius.

3. She cried, "For the dear love of Him who gave
His life for ours, my child from bondage save,—
My beautiful, brave first-born, chained with slaves
In the Moor's galley, where the sun-smit waves
Lap the white walls of Tunis!" "What I can
I give," Tritemius said: "my prayers." "O man
Of God," she cried, for grief had made her bold,
"Mock me not thus; I ask not prayers, but gold.
Words will not serve me, alms alone suffice;
Even while I speak, perchance, my first-born dies."

4. "Woman," Tritemius answered, "from our door
None go unfed; hence are we always poor;
A single soldo is our only store.
Thou hast our prayers; what can we give thee more?"

5. "Give me," she said, "the silver candlesticks
On either side of the great crucifix;
God may well spare them on his errands sped,
Or he can give you golden ones instead."

6. Then spake Tritemius: "Even as thy word,
Woman, so be it! (Our most gracious Lord,
Who loveth mercy more than sacrifice,
Pardon me if a human soul I prize
Above the gifts upon his altar piled!)
Take what thou askest, and redeem thy child."

7. But his hand trembled as the holy alms
He placed within the beggar's eager palms;
And as she vanished down the linden shade,
He bowed his head, and for forgiveness prayed.

8. So the day passed, and when the twilight came
He woke to find the chapel all aflame,
And, dumb with grateful wonder, to behold
Upon the altar candlesticks of gold!

Whittier.

XI.—DAMON AND PYTHIAS.

1. About four hundred years before the Christian era, the government of Syracuse fell into the hands of Dionysius, a successful general of the army. He dispossessed the magistrates whom the people elected, and was therefore a usurper. While ruling justly in the main, he had a capricious temper, and often in his rage performed actions which he sincerely regretted in his sober moments. He was a good scholar, and very fond of philosophy and poetry, and he delighted to have learned men around him, and he had naturally a generous spirit; but the sense that he was in a position that did not belong to him, and that every one hated him for assuming it, made him very harsh and suspicious. It is of him that the story is told, that he had a chamber hollowed in the rock near his state prison, and constructed with galleries to conduct sounds like an ear, so that he might overhear the conversation of his captives; and of him, too, is told that famous anecdote which has become a proverb, that on hearing a friend, named Damocles, express a wish to be in his situation for a single day, he took him at his word, and Damocles found himself at a banquet with everything that could delight his senses, delicious food, costly wine, flowers, perfumes, music, but with a sword with the point almost touching his head, and hanging by a single horse-hair! This was to show the condition in which a usurper lived.

Damon and Pythias.

2. Thus Dionysius was in constant dread. He had a wide trench round his bedroom, with a drawbridge that he drew up and put down with his own hands; and he put one barber to death for boasting that he held a razor to the tyrant's throat every morning. After this he made his young daughters shave him; and by-and-by he would not trust them with a razor, and caused them to singe off his beard with hot nut-shells.

3. One philosopher, named Philoxenus, he sent to a dungeon for finding fault with his poetry, but he afterward composed another piece, which he thought so superior that he could not be content without sending for this adverse critic to hear it. When he had finished reading it, he looked to Philoxenus for a compliment; but the philosopher only turned round to the guards, and said dryly, "Carry me back to prison." This time Dionysius had the sense to laugh, and forgive his honesty.

4. All these stories may not be true; but that they should have been current in the ancient world, shows what was the character of the man of whom they were told, how stern and terrible was his anger, and how easily it was incurred. Among those who came under it was a Pythagorean called Pythias, who was sentenced to death, according to the usual fate of those who fell under his suspicion.

5. Pythias had lands and relations in Greece, and he entreated as a favor to be allowed to return thither and arrange his affairs, engaging to return within a specified time and suffer death. The tyrant laughed his request to scorn. Once safe out of Sicily, who would answer for his return? Pythias made reply that he had a friend who would become security for his return; and while Dionysius, the miserable man who trusted nobody, was ready to scoff at his simplicity, another Pythagorean, by name Damon, came forward and offered to become surety for his friend, engaging that, if Pythias did not return according to promise, to suffer death in his stead.

6. Dionysius, much astonished, consented to let Pythias go, marveling what would be the issue of the affair. Time went on, and Pythias did not appear. The Syracusans watched Damon, but he showed no uneasiness. He said he was secure of his friend's truth and honor, and that if any accident had caused his delay, he should rejoice in dying to save the life of one so dear to him.

7. Even to the last day Damon continued serene and content, however it might fall out; nay, even when the very hour drew nigh and still no Pythias. His trust was so perfect that he did not even grieve at having to die for a faithless friend who left him to the fate to which he had unwarily pledged himself. It was not Pythias's own will, but the winds and waves, so he still declared, when the decree was brought and the instruments of death made ready. The hour had come, and a few moments more would have ended Damon's life, when Pythias duly presented himself, embraced his friend, and stood forward himself to receive his sentence, calm, resolute, and rejoiced that he had come in time.

8. Even the dim hope they owned of a future state was enough to make these two brave men keep their word, and confront death for one another without quailing. Dionysius looked on more struck than ever. He felt that neither of such men must die. He reversed the sentence of Pythias, and calling the two to his judgment-seat, he entreated them to admit him as a third in their friendship.

Charlotte M. Yonge.

XII.—KING CANUTE.

1. Upon his royal throne he sat
In a monarch's thoughtful mood;
Attendants on his regal state,
His servile courtiers stood,
With foolish flatteries, false and vain,
To win his smile, his favor gain.

2. They told him e'en the mighty deep
His kingly sway confessed;
That he could bid its billows leap,
Or still its stormy breast!
He smiled contemptuously and cried,
"Be then my boasted empire tried!"

3. Down to the ocean's sounding shore
The proud procession came,
To see its billows' wild uproar
King Canute's power proclaim,
Or, at his high and dread command,
In gentle murmurs kiss the strand.

4. Not so thought he, their noble king,
As his course he seaward sped;
And each base slave, like a guilty thing,
Hung down his conscious head:
He knew the ocean's Lord on high!
They, that he scorned their senseless lie.

5. His throne was placed by ocean's side,
He lifted his scepter there,
Bidding, with tones of kingly pride,
The waves their strife forbear;
And while he spoke his royal will,
All but the winds and waves were still.

Canute and his Courtiers.

6. Louder the stormy blast swept by,
In scorn of idle word;
The briny deep its waves tossed high,
By his mandate undeterred,
As threatening, in their angry play,
To sweep both king and court away.

7. The monarch, with upbraiding look,
Turned to the courtly ring;
But none the kindling eye could brook
Even of his earthly king;
For in that wrathful glance they see
A mightier monarch wronged than he!

8. Canute, thy regal race is run;
Thy name had passed away,
But for the meed this tale hath won,
Which never shall decay:
Its meek, unperishing renown
Outlasts thy scepter and thy crown.

9. The Persian, in his mighty pride,
Forged fetters for the main,
And, when its floods his power defied,
Inflicted stripes as vain;
But it was worthier far of thee
To know thyself than rule the sea!

Bernard Barton.

XIII.—A NORSEMAN'S SWORD.

1. The smelting of iron in the north of Europe is believed to have commenced with the Finns or Laplanders, the original inhabitants of Scandinavia, who then occupied the localities where the best ores are still found. The diminutive stature of these people compared with that of their Gothic invaders, their skill in penetrating the bowels of the earth in search of ores, the smoke of their collieries, the flame and thunder of their furnaces and forges, and, above all, the excellent temper of the weapons wrought by them—all these conspired to render them objects of superstitious wonder to the Goths.

2. The legendary stories of that people are filled with strange tales of the northern dwarfs, who lived in the solid rock, and possessed magic skill in all the various arts of the smith. One of these legends may be worth citing, and the rather, because it relates to Vanlander, the Scandinavian Vulcan, of whom many traditions are extant, even in England, where he is styled Wayland Smith. At the age of thirteen Vanlander was apprenticed by his father, the giant Vade, to two of the dwarfs who dwelt in the interior of the mountain, and he applied himself so faithfully to their instructions, that in two years he equaled his masters in knowledge of all the arts of smithery, both black and white.

3. Being at the court of King Nidung, where his dexterity as a smith became known, a rivalship arose between him and Amilias, principal smith to the king. Amilias challenged Vanlander to a trial of skill, upon condition that the life of the vanquished should be at the disposal of the victor. The terms proposed were that Vanlander should forge a sword, and Amilias a helmet, cuirass, and other defensive armor, and a twelvemonth was allowed for preparation. If the sword of Vanlander penetrated the armor of Amilias, the former was to be declared the victor, if otherwise, his life was forfeited to his rival.

A Norseman's Sword.

4. Amilias spent the whole year at his task, but Vanlander did not commence his labors until two months before the trial. He now, after seven days' labor, exhibited to the king a sword of great beauty and excellent temper, but too heavy for use. By way of testing its edge, he took a cushion stuffed with wool a foot in thickness, threw it into the river, and let it float with the current against the edge of the sword, which cut it fairly in two. The king thought this a sufficient proof, but Vanlander was not satisfied.

5. He took the sword to his smithy, filed it quite to dust, and after subjecting the filings to an odd process of animal chemistry, he forged from them another sword of somewhat smaller size than the first, though still rather heavy. Upon testing this sword in the same manner as before, it readily divided a cushion two feet in thickness, and the king thought it the finest weapon in the world, but Vanlander said he would have it half as good again before he was done with it.

6. It was now reduced to filings, which were treated as in the former instance, and in three weeks Vanlander produced a sword of convenient size, inlaid with gold, and with an ornamental hilt, all of the highest finish and beauty. The king and the smith went again to the river with a cushion three feet in thickness, which was thrown into the water and driven against the blade as before. The sword divided the cushion as easily as the water, and without even checking its progress as it floated with the current, and King Nidung declared its fellow could not be found on earth.

7. At the appointed day Amilias put on his armor, all of which was of double plates, and, declaring himself ready for the trial, seated himself in a chair, and defied his rival to do his worst. Vanlander stepped behind him, gave him a blow upon the helmet, and asked him if he felt the edge. "I felt as if cold water were running through me," replied Amilias. "Shake yourself," said Vanlander. His rival did so, and fell asunder, the sword having cleft him to the chine.

George P. Marsh.

XIV.—THE STORY OF KING ALFRED AND ST.
CUTHBERT.

1. Now King Alfred was driven from his kingdom by the Danes, and he lay hid three years in the Isle of Glastonbury. And it came to pass on a day that all his folk were gone out to fish, save only Alfred himself and his wife and one servant whom he loved. And there came a pilgrim to the king and begged for food. And the king said to his servant, "What food have we in the house?" And his servant answered, "My lord, we have but one loaf and a little wine." Then the king gave thanks to God, and said, "Give half of the loaf and half of the wine to this poor pilgrim." So the servant did as his lord commanded him, and gave to the pilgrim half of the loaf and half of the wine, and the pilgrim gave great thanks to the king.

2. And when the servant returned he found the loaf whole, and the wine as much as there had been aforetime. And he greatly wondered, and he wondered also how the pilgrim had come into the isle, for that no man could come there save by water, and the pilgrim had no boat. And the king greatly wondered also. And at the ninth hour came back the folk who had gone to fish. And they had three boats full of fish, and they said, "Lo, we have caught more fish this day than in all the three years that we have tarried in this island!" And the king was glad, and he and his folk were merry; yet he pondered much upon that which had come to pass.

3. And when night came the king went to his bed, and the king lay awake and thought of all that had come to pass by day. And presently he saw a great light, like the brightness of the sun, and he saw an old man with black hair, clothed in priest's garments, and with a miter on his head, and holding in his right hand a book of the Gospels adorned with gold and gems. And the old man blessed the king, and the king said unto him, "Who art thou?" And he answered: "Alfred, my son, rejoice; for I am he to whom thou didst this day give thine alms, and I am called Cuthbert the Soldier of Christ.

4. "Now be strong and very courageous, and be of joyful heart, and hearken diligently to the things which I say unto thee; for henceforth I will be thy shield and thy friend, and I will watch over thee and over thy sons after thee. And now I will tell thee what thou must do: Rise up early in the morning and blow thine horn thrice, that thine enemies may hear it and fear, and by the ninth hour thou shalt have around thee five hundred men harnessed for the battle. And this shall be a sign unto thee that thou mayst believe. And after seven days thou shalt have, by God's gift and my help, all the folk of this land gathered unto thee upon the mount that is called Assaudun. And thus shalt thou fight against thine enemies, and doubt not that thou shalt overcome them.

5. "Be thou, therefore, glad of heart, and be strong and very courageous, and fear not, for God hath given thine enemies into thine hand. And he hath given thee also all this land and the kingdom of thy fathers, to thee and to thy sons and to thy sons' sons after thee. Be thou faithful to me and to my folk, because that unto thee is given all the land of Albion. Be thou righteous, because thou art chosen to be the king of all Britain. So may God be merciful unto thee, and I will be thy friend, and none of thine enemies shall ever be able to overcome thee."

6. Then was King Alfred glad at heart, and he was strong and very courageous, for that he knew that he would overcome his enemies by the help of God and St. Cuthbert his patron. So in the morning he arose and sailed to the land, and blew his horn three times, and when his friends heard it they rejoiced, and when his enemies heard it they feared. And by the ninth hour, according to the word of the Lord, there were gathered unto him five hundred men of the bravest and dearest of his friends.

7. And he spake unto them and told them all that God had said unto them by the mouth of his servant Cuthbert, and he told them that, by the gift of God and by the help of St. Cuthbert, they would overcome their enemies and win back their own land. And he bade them, as St. Cuthbert had taught him, to be pious toward God and righteous toward men. And he bade his son Edward, who was by him, to be faithful to God and St. Cuthbert, and so he should always have victory over his enemies. So they went forth to battle and smote their enemies and overcame them, and King Alfred took the kingdom of all Britain, and he ruled well and wisely over the just and the unjust for the rest of his days.

E. A. Freeman.

XV.—A ROLAND FOR AN OLIVER.

1. Milon, or Milone, a knight of great family, and distantly related to Charlemagne, having secretly married Bertha, the emperor's sister, was banished from France. After a long and miserable wandering on foot as mendicants, Milon and his wife arrived at Sutri, in Italy, where they took refuge in a cave, and in that cave Orlando was born. There his mother continued, drawing a scanty support from the compassion of the neighboring peasants, while Milon, in quest of honor and fortune, went into foreign lands. Orlando grew up among the children of the peasantry, surpassing them all in strength and manly graces.

2. Among his companions in age, though in station far more elevated, was Oliver, son of the governor of the town. Between the two boys a feud arose, that led to a fight, in which Orlando thrashed his rival; but this did not prevent a friendship springing up between the two which lasted through life.

3. Orlando was so poor that he was sometimes half naked. As he was a favorite of the boys, one day four of them brought some cloth to make him clothes. Two brought white and two red; and from this circumstance Orlando took his coat-of-arms, or quarterings.

4. When Charlemagne was on his way to Rome, to receive the imperial crown, he dined in public in Sutri. Orlando and his mother that day had nothing to eat, and Orlando, coming suddenly upon the royal party, and seeing abundance of provisions, seized from the attendants as much as he could carry off, and made good his retreat in spite of their resistance.

5. The emperor, being told of this incident, was reminded of an intimation he had received in a dream, and ordered the boy to be followed. This was done by three of the knights, whom Orlando would have encountered with a cudgel on their entering the grotto, had not his mother restrained him. When they heard from her who she was, they threw themselves at her feet, and promised to obtain her pardon from the emperor. This was easily effected. Orlando was received into favor by the emperor, returned with him to France, and so distinguished himself that he became the most powerful support of the throne and of Christianity.

6. On another occasion, Orlando encountered a puissant Saracen warrior, and took from him, as the prize of victory, the sword Durindana. This famous weapon had once belonged to the illustrious prince Hector of Troy. It was of the finest workmanship, and of such strength and temper that no armor in the world could stand against it.

7. Guerin de Montglave held the lordship of Vienne, subject to Charlemagne. He had quarreled with his sovereign, and Charles laid siege to his city, having ravaged the neighboring country. Guerin was an aged warrior, but relied for his defense upon his four sons and two grandsons, who were among the bravest knights of the age. After the siege had continued two months, Charlemagne received tidings that Marsilius, King of Spain, had invaded France, and, finding himself unopposed, was advancing rapidly in the southern provinces. At this intelligence, Charles listened to the counsel of his peers, and consented to put the quarrel with Guerin to the decision of Heaven, by single combat between two knights, one of each party, selected by lot.

8. The proposal was acceptable to Guerin and his sons. The name of the four, together with Guerin's own, who would not be excused, and of the two grandsons, who claimed their lot, being put into a helmet, Oliver's was drawn forth, and to him, the youngest of the grandsons, was assigned the honor and the peril of the combat. He accepted the award with delight, exulting in being thought worthy to maintain the cause of his family. On Charlemagne's side Roland was designated champion, and neither he nor Oliver knew who his antagonist was to be.

9. They met on an island in the Rhône, and the warriors of both camps were ranged on either shore, spectators of the battle. At the first encounter both lances were shivered, but both riders kept their seats immovable. They dismounted and drew their swords. Then ensued a combat which seemed so equal, that the spectators could not form an opinion as to the probable issue. Two hours and more the knights continued to strike and parry, to thrust and ward, neither showing any sign of weariness, nor ever being taken at unawares.

10. At length Orlando struck furiously upon Oliver's shield, burying Durindana in its edge so deeply that he could not draw it back, and Oliver, almost at the same moment, thrust so vigorously upon Orlando's breastplate that his sword snapped off at the handle. Thus were the two warriors left weaponless. Scarcely pausing a moment, they rushed upon one another, each striving to throw his adversary to the ground, and, failing in that, each snatched at the other's helmet to tear it away. Both succeeded, and at the same moment they stood bareheaded face to face, and Roland recognized Oliver, and Oliver Roland. For a moment they stood still; and the next, with open arms, rushed into one another's embrace. "I am conquered," said Orlando. "I yield me," said Oliver.

11. The people on the shore knew not what to make of all this. Presently they saw the two late antagonists standing hand-in-hand, and it was evident the battle was at an end. The knights crowded around them, and with one voice hailed them as equal in glory. If there were any who felt disposed to murmur that the battle was left undecided, they were silenced by the voice of Ogier the Dane, who proclaimed aloud that all had been done that honor required, and declared that he would maintain that award against all gainsayers.

12. The quarrel with Guerin and his sons being left undecided, a truce was made for four days, and in that time, by the efforts of Duke Namo on the one side, and of Oliver on the other, a reconciliation was effected. Charlemagne, accompanied by Guerin and his valiant family, marched to meet Marsilius, who hastened to retreat across the frontier.

Bullfinch.

XVI.—THE LEGEND OF MACBETH.

1. Soon after the Scots and Picts had become one people, there was a king of Scotland called Duncan, a very good old man. He had two sons, Malcolm and Donaldbane. But King Duncan was too old to lead out his army to battle, and his sons were too young to help him. Now it happened that a great fleet of Danes came to Scotland and landed their men in Fife and threatened to take possession of that province. So a numerous Scottish army was levied to go out to fight with them. The king intrusted the command to Macbeth, a near kinsman.

2. This Macbeth, who was a brave soldier, put himself at the head of the Scottish army and marched against the Danes. And he took with him a near relative of his own called Banquo, a brave and successful soldier. There was a great battle fought between the Danes and the Scots, and Macbeth and Banquo defeated the Danes and drove them back to their ships, leaving a great many of their soldiers killed and wounded. Then Macbeth and his army marched back to Forres in the north of Scotland, rejoicing on account of their victory.

3. Now, at this time, there lived in the town of Forres three old women, whom people thought were witches, and supposed they could tell what was to come to pass. These old women went and stood by the way-side, in a great moor near Forres, and waited until Macbeth came up. And then stepping before him as he was marching at the head of his soldiers the first woman said, "All hail Macbeth! hail to the Thane of Glamis!" The second said, "All hail to the Thane of Cawdor!" Then the third wishing to pay him a higher compliment, said: "All hail Macbeth, that shall be King of Scotland!" While Macbeth stood wondering what they could mean, Banquo stepped forward and asked if they had not something good to say to him. And they said he should not be so great as Macbeth, yet his children should succeed to the throne of Scotland and reign for a great number of years.

4. Before Macbeth had recovered from his surprise, there came a messenger to tell him that his father was dead; so that, he was Thane of Glamis; and then came a second messenger from the king to thank Macbeth for the great victory over the Danes, and to tell him that the Thane of Cawdor had rebelled against the king, and that the king had taken his office from him, and had sent to make Macbeth Thane of Cawdor. Macbeth, seeing that a part of their words came true, began to think how he might become king as the three old women had predicted. Now Lady Macbeth was a very wicked woman, and she showed Macbeth that the only way to become king was to kill good King Duncan. At first Macbeth would not listen to her, but at last his ambition to be king became so great that he resolved to murder his kinsman and best friend.

Macbeth.

5. To accomplish his purpose he invited King Duncan to visit him in his own castle near Inverness, and the king accepted the invitation. Macbeth and his lady received their distinguished guests with great seeming joy and made for them a great feast. At the close of the feast the king retired to rest, and all the other guests followed his example. The two personal attendants of the king whose duty it was to watch over him while asleep, were purposely made drunk by Lady Macbeth, and they fell upon their couch in a profound slumber.

6. Then Macbeth came into King Duncan's room about two o'clock in the morning. It was a terrible stormy night, but the noise of the wind and the thunder could not awaken the king, as he was old and weary with his journey; neither could it awaken the two sentinels. They all slept soundly. So Macbeth stepped gently over the floor and took the two dirks which belonged to the sentinels and stabbed poor old King Duncan to the heart, so he died without a groan. Then Macbeth put the bloody daggers into the hands of the sleeping sentinels and daubed their hands and faces with blood. Macbeth was frightened at what he had done, but his wife made him wash his hands and go to bed.

7. Early in the morning the nobles and gentlemen who attended on the king assembled in the great hall of the castle, and then they began to talk of what a dreadful storm there had been the night before. They waited for some time, but finding the king did not come out, one of the noblemen went to see whether he was well or not. But when he came into the room he found King Duncan dead, and went back and spread the alarm. The Scottish nobles were greatly enraged at the sight, and Macbeth made believe he was more enraged than any of them, and drawing his sword he killed the two attendants of the king, still heavy with sleep in consequence of the drink furnished by Lady Macbeth the night before.

8. Malcolm and Donaldbane, the two sons of Duncan, when they saw their father dead, fled from the castle, as they believed that Macbeth had committed the murder. Malcolm, the eldest son, made his way to the English court, and solicited aid to get possession of his father's throne. In the mean time Macbeth took possession of the kingdom of Scotland. The remembrance of his great crime continually haunted him, and he became so sleepless as to be nearly insane. He remembered that the witches had said that the children of Banquo should reign as kings in Scotland, and he became terribly jealous of his old friend and companion. At last he hired ruffians to waylay Banquo and his sons and murder them. The scheme was partially successful—Banquo was killed but the sons escaped, and from him descended a long line of the early Scottish kings.

9. But Macbeth was not more happy after he had slain his friend and cousin Banquo. He knew that people began to suspect him of his evil deeds, and he was constantly afraid that some of his nobles would treat him as he treated King Duncan. In his perplexity he sought the three witches he had met before, to ask them what was to happen to him in the future. They answered him that he should not be conquered nor lose the crown of Scotland until a great forest, called Birnam Wood should come to attack him in his strong castle on Dunsinane hill. As the distance between the two was about twelve miles, Macbeth thought it was impossible that the trees should ever come to assault him in his castle. He immediately summoned all his nobles to assist him in strengthening his castle at Dunsinane. All the nobles were obliged to furnish oxen and horses to drag the heavy stones and logs used on the fortification up the steep hill.

10. One day Macbeth noticed a pair of oxen so tired with their burden that they fell down under their load. Upon inquiry he learned that they belonged to Macduff, the Thane of Fife. The king, who was jealous of Macduff, flew into a great rage and declared that "since the Thane of Fife sends such worthless cattle as these to do my labor, I will put his own neck into the yoke, and make him drag the burden himself." A friend of Macduff who heard this speech hastened to the king's castle and informed Macduff who was walking about while the dinner was preparing.

11. Macduff snatched a loaf of bread from the table, called for his horses and servants, and galloped off toward his own castle of Kennoway in Fife. When Macbeth returned he first asked what had become of Macduff, and being informed that he had fled from Dunsinane, Macbeth put himself at the head of a large force of his guards, and immediately pursued. Macduff reached his castle which is built upon the shore of the sea, a little in advance of the king. He ordered his wife to shut the gates of the castle and pull up the drawbridge, and on no account permit the king or any of his soldiers to enter. In the mean time he went aboard a small ship and put out to sea.

12. Macbeth then summoned the lady to open the gates and deliver up her husband. "Do you see," said she, "yon white sail upon the sea? Yonder goes Macduff to the court of England. You will never see him again until he comes with young Prince Malcolm to pull you down from the throne and put you to death. You will never be able to put your yoke upon the neck of the Thane of Fife."

13. Some say that Macbeth was so enraged at the escape of Macduff that he stormed and took the castle, and put to death the wife and children of Macduff. But others say that Macbeth turned back from the strong castle and its brave defenders, and returned to his own home at Dunsinane. Macduff readily found Prince Malcolm and the English king, fitted them out with an army. Upon entering Scotland a large share of the nobles deserted Macbeth and joined the forces of Malcolm. The army marched as far as Birnam Wood where they encamped to rest and recuperate.

14. Macbeth, in the mean time, shut himself up in his castle, where he thought himself safe according to the old woman's prophecy, until Birnam Wood should advance against him, and this he never expected to see. Malcolm's army having entirely recovered their strength and vigor, at length were ready to march. As they were about to start, Macduff advised each soldier to cut down the bough of a tree and carry it so as to conceal the strength of the army as they crossed the valley. The sentinel on the castle walls saw all these green boughs advancing, ran to Macbeth and informed him that the wood of Birnam was moving toward the castle of Dunsinane. The king at first called him a liar and threatened to put him to death; but when he looked from the walls himself, and saw the appearance of a forest approaching from Birnam, he remembered the prediction, and felt that the hour of his destruction had come.

15. His followers were also superstitious and began to desert him. But Macbeth, at the head of those who remained true to him sallied out, and was killed in a hand-to-hand conflict with Macduff. This story, a tradition, is told by Sir Walter Scott, and forms the foundation of Shakespeare's tragedy of "Macbeth."

OLD BALLADS.

XVII.—CHEVY-CHASE.

1. God prosper long our noble king,
Our lives and safeties all;
A woful hunting once there did
In Chevy-Chase befall.

2. The stout Earl of Northumberland
A vow to God did make
His pleasure in the Scottish woods
Three summer days to take—

3. The chiefest harts in Chevy-Chase
To kill and bear away.
These tidings to Earl Douglas came,
In Scotland where he lay;

4. Who sent Earl Percy present word
He would prevent his sport.
The English earl, not fearing that,
Did to the woods resort,

5. With fifteen hundred bowmen bold,
All chosen men of might,
Who knew full well in time of need
To aim their shafts aright.

6. The gallant greyhounds swiftly ran
To chase the fallow deer;
On Monday they began to hunt
When daylight did appear;

7. And long before high noon they had
A hundred fat bucks slain;
Then, having dined, the drovers went
To rouse the deer again.

8. Lord Percy to the quarry went,
To view the slaughtered deer;
Quoth he, "Earl Douglas promised
This day to meet me here;

9. "But if I thought he would not come—
No longer would I stay";
With that a brave young gentleman
Thus to the earl did say:

10. "Lo, yonder doth Earl Douglas come—
His men in armor bright,
Full twenty hundred Scottish spears
All marching in our sight."

11. Earl Douglas on his milk-white steed,
Most like a baron bold,
Rode foremost of his company,
Whose armor shone like gold.

12. "Show me," said he, "whose men you be,
That hunt so boldly here,
That, without my consent, do chase
And kill my fallow-deer."

13. The first man that did answer make
Was noble Percy he—
Who said: "We list not to declare,
Nor show whose men we be:

14. "Yet will we spend our dearest blood
Thy chiefest harts to slay."
Then Douglas swore a solemn oath,
And thus in rage did say:

15. "Ere thus I will out-bravèd be,
One of us two shall die!
I know thee well, an earl thou art—
Lord Percy, so am I.

16. "Let you and me the battle try,
And set our men aside."
"Accursed be he," Earl Percy said,
"By whom this is denied!"

17. Then stepped a gallant squire forth,
Witherington was his name,
Who said: "I would not have it told
To Henry, our king, for shame,

18. "That e'er my captain fought on foot,
And I stood looking on.
You two be earls," said Witherington,
"And I a squire alone.

19. "I'll do the best that do I may,
While I have power to stand;
While I have power to wield my sword
I'll fight with heart and hand."

20. Our English archers bent their bows—
Their hearts were good and true;
At the first flight of arrows sent,
Full fourscore Scots they slew.

21. Yet stays Earl Douglas on the bent,
As chieftain stout and good;
As valiant captain, all unmoved,
The shock he firmly stood.

22. His host he parted had in three,
As leaders ware and tried;
And soon his spearmen on their foes
Bore down on every side.

23. At last these two stout earls did meet;
Like captains of great might,
Like lions wode, they laid on lode,
And made a cruel fight.

24. "Yield thee, Lord Percy," Douglas said.
"In faith I will thee bring
Where thou shalt high advancèd be
By James, our Scottish king.

25. "Thy ransom I will freely give,
And this report of thee—
Thou art the most courageous knight
That ever I did see."