The Project Gutenberg EBook of Short Stories Old and New
Selected and Edited by C. Alphonso Smith

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Title: Short Stories Old and New

Author: Selected and Edited by C. Alphonso Smith

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Language: English

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SHORT STORIES

OLD AND NEW



SELECTED AND EDITED

BY

C. ALPHONSO SMITH

EDGAR ALLAN POE PROFESSOR OF ENGLISH IN THE
UNIVERSITY OF VIRGINIA, AUTHOR OF
"THE AMERICAN SHORT STORY," ETC.



1916






INTRODUCTION

Every short story has three parts, which may be called Setting or
Background, Plot or Plan, and Characters or Character. If you are going
to write a short story, as I hope you are, you will find it necessary to
think through these three parts so as to relate them interestingly and
naturally one to the other; and if you want to assimilate the best that
is in the following stories, you will do well to approach them by the
same three routes.

The Setting or Background gives us the time and the place of the story
with such details of custom, scenery, and dialect as time and place
imply. It answers the questions _When? Where?_ The Plot tells us what
happened. It gives us the incidents and events, the haps or mishaps,
that are interwoven to make up the warp and woof of the story. Sometimes
there is hardly any interweaving; just a plain plan or simple outline is
followed, as in "The Christmas Carol" or "The Great Stone Face." We may
still call the core of these two stories the Plot, if we want to, but
Plan would be the more accurate. This part of the story answers the
question _What_? Under the heading Characters or Character we study the
personalities of the men and women who move through the story and give
it unity and coherence. Sometimes, as in "The Christmas Carol" or
"Markheim," one character so dominates the others that they are mere
spokes in his hub or incidents in his career. But in "The Gift of the
Magi," though more space is given to Della, she and Jim act from the
same motive and contribute equally to the development of the story. In
one of our stories the main character is a dog, but he is so human that
we may still say that the chief question to be answered under this
heading is _Who?_

Many books have been written about these three parts of a short story,
but the great lesson to be learned is that the excellence of a story,
long or short, consists not in the separate excellence of the Setting or
of the Plot or of the Characters but in the perfect blending of the
three to produce a single effect or to impress a single truth. If the
Setting does not fit the Plot, if the Plot does not rise gracefully from
the Setting, if the Characters do not move naturally and
self-revealingly through both, the story is a failure. Emerson might
well have had our three parts of the short story in mind when he wrote,

   All are needed by each one;
   Nothing is fair or good alone.





CONTENTS


INTRODUCTION

I. ESTHER, From the Old Testament

II. THE HISTORY OF ALI BABA AND THE FORTY ROBBERS, From "The
   Arabian Nights"

III. RIP VAN WINKLE, By Washington Irving

IV. THE GOLD-BUG, By Edgar Allan Poe

V. A CHRISTMAS CAROL, By Charles Dickens

VI. THE GREAT STONE FACE, By Nathaniel Hawthorne

VII. RAB AND HIS FRIENDS, By Dr. John Brown

VIII. THE OUTCASTS OF POKER FLAT, By Bret Harte

IX. MARKHEIM, By Robert Louis Stevenson

X. THE NECKLACE, By Guy de Maupassant

XI. THE MAN WHO WOULD BE KING, By Rudyard Kipling

XII. THE GIFT OF THE MAGI, By O. Henry




SHORT STORIES




I. ESTHER[*]

[* From the Old Testament, Authorized Version.]

AUTHOR UNKNOWN


[_Setting_. The events take place in Susa, the capital of Persia, in the
reign of Ahasuerus, or Xerxes (485-465 B.C.). This foreign locale
intensifies the splendid Jewish patriotism that breathes through the
story from beginning to end. If the setting had been in Jerusalem,
Esther could not have preached the noble doctrine, "When in Rome, don't
do as Rome does, but be true to the old ideals of home and race."

_Plot_. "Esther" seems to me the best-told story in the Bible. Observe
how the note of empty Persian bigness versus simple Jewish faith is
struck at the very beginning and is echoed to the end. Thus, Ahasuerus
ruled over one hundred and twenty-seven provinces, the opening banquet
lasted one hundred and eighty-seven days, the king's bulletins were as
unalterable as the tides, the gallows erected was eighty-three feet
high, the beds were of gold and silver upon a pavement of red and blue
and white and black marble, the money wrested from the Jews was to be
eighteen million dollars, etc. The word "banquet" occurs twenty times in
this short story and only twenty times in all the remaining thirty-eight
books of the Old Testament. In other words, Ahasuerus and his
trencher-mates ate and drank as much in five days as had been eaten and
drunk by all the other Old Testament characters from "Genesis" to
"Malachi."

Note also the contrast between the two queens, the two prime ministers,
the two edicts, and the two later banquets. The most masterly part of
the plot is the handling of events between these banquets. Read again
from chapter v, beginning at verse 9, through chapter vi, and note how
skillfully the pen is held. In motivation as well as in symmetry and
naturalness the story is without a peer. There is humor, too, in the
solemn deliberations over Vashti's "No" (chapter i, verses 12-22) and in
the strange procession led by pedestrian Haman (chapter vi, verses
6-11).

The purpose of the story was to encourage the feast of Purim (chapter
ix, verses 20-32) and to promote national solidarity. It may be compared
to "A Christmas Carol," which was written to restore the waning
celebration of Christmas, and to our Declaration of Independence, which
is re-read on every Fourth of July to quicken our sense of national
fellowship. But "Esther" is more than an institution. It is the old
story of two conflicting civilizations, one representing bigness, the
other greatness; one standing for materialism, the other for idealism;
one enthroning the body, the other the spirit.

_Characters_. These are finely individualized, though each seems to me a
type. Ahasuerus is a tank that runs blood or wine according to the hand
that turns the spigot. He was used for good but deserves and receives no
credit for it. No man ever missed a greater opportunity. He was brought
face to face with the two greatest world-civilizations of history; but,
understanding neither, he remains only a muddy place in the road along
which Greek and Hebrew passed to world-conquest. Haman, a blend of
vanity and cruelty and cowardice but not without some power of
initiative, was a fit minister for his king. He lives in history as one
who, better than in Hamlet's illustration, was "hoist with his own
petard," the petard in his case being a gallows. He typifies also the
just fate of the man who, spurred by the hate of one, includes in his
scheme of extermination a whole people. Collective vengeance never
received a better illustration nor a more exemplary punishment. Mordecai
is altogether admirable in refusing to kowtow to Haman and in his
unselfish devotion to his fair cousin, Esther. The noblest sentiment in
the book--"Who knoweth whether thou art come to the kingdom for such a
time as this?"--comes from Mordecai.

But the leading character is Esther, not because she was "fair and
beautiful" but because she was hospitable to the great thought suggested
by Mordecai. None but a Jew could have asked, "Who knoweth whether thou
art come to the kingdom for such a time as this?" and none but a Jew
could have answered as Esther answered. The question implied a sense of
personal responsibility and of divine guidance far beyond the reach of
Persian or Mede or Greek of that time. It calls up many a quiet hour
when Esther and Mordecai talked together of their strange lot in this
heathen land and wondered if the time would ever come when they could
interpret their trials in terms of national service rather than of
meaningless fate. Imagine the blank and bovine expression that Ahasuerus
or Haman would have turned upon you if you had put such a question to
either of them. But in the case of Esther, Mordecai's appeal unlocked an
unused reservoir of power that has made her one of the world's heroines.
She had her faults, or rather her limitations, but since her time men
have gone to the stake, have built up and torn down principalities and
powers, on the dynamic conviction that they had been sent to the kingdom
"for such a time as this."]



CHAPTER I

THE STORY OF VASHTI


1. Now it came to pass in the days of Ahasuerus, (this is Ahasuerus
which reigned from India even unto Ethiopia, over a hundred and seven
and twenty provinces,)

2. That in those days, when the king Ahasuerus sat on the throne of his
kingdom, which was in Shushan the palace,

3. In the third year of his reign, he made a feast unto all his princes
and his servants; the power of Persia and Media, the nobles and princes
of the provinces, being before him:

4. When he shewed the riches of his glorious kingdom and the honour of
his excellent majesty many days, even a hundred and fourscore days.

5. And when these days were expired, the king made a feast unto all the
people that were present in Shushan the palace, both unto great and
small, seven days, in the court of the garden of the king's palace.

6. Where were white, green, and blue hangings, fastened with cords of
fine linen and purple to silver rings and pillars of marble: the beds
were of gold and silver, upon a pavement of red, and blue, and white,
and black marble.

7. And they gave them drink in vessels of gold, (the vessels being
diverse one from another,) and royal wine in abundance, according to the
state of the king.

8. And the drinking was according to the law; none did compel: for so
the king had appointed to all the officers of his house, that they
should do according to every man's pleasure.

9. Also Vashti the queen made a feast for the women in the royal house
which belonged to king Ahasuerus.

10. On the seventh day, when the heart of the king was merry with wine,
he commanded Mehuman, Biztha, Harbona, Bigtha, and Abagtha, Zethar, and
Carcas, the seven chamberlains that served in the presence of Ahasuerus
the king,

11. To bring Vashti the queen before the king with the crown royal, to
shew the people and the princes her beauty: for she was fair to look on.

12. But the queen Vashti refused to come at the king's commandment by
his chamberlains: therefore was the king very wroth, and his anger
burned in him.

13. Then the king said to the wise men, which knew the times, (for so
was the king's manner toward all that knew law and judgment:

14. And the next unto him was Carshena, Shethar, Admatha, Tarshish,
Meres, Marsena, and Memucan, the seven princes of Persia and Media,
which saw the king's face, and which sat the first in the kingdom,)

15. What shall we do unto the queen Vashti according to law, because she
hath not performed the commandment of the king Ahasuerus by the
chamberlains?

16. And Memucan answered before the king and the princes, Vashti the
queen hath not done wrong to the king only, but also to all the princes,
and to all the people that are in all the provinces of the king
Ahasuerus.

17. For this deed of the queen shall come abroad unto all women, so that
they shall despise their husbands in their eyes, when it shall be
reported, The king Ahasuerus commanded Vashti the queen to be brought in
before him, but she came not.

18. Likewise shall the ladies of Persia and Media say this day unto all
the king's princes, which have heard of the deed of the queen. Thus
shall there arise too much contempt and wrath.

19. If it please the king, let there go a royal commandment from him,
and let it be written among the laws of the Persians and the Medes, that
it be not altered, That Vashti come no more before king Ahasuerus; and
let the king give her royal estate unto another that is better than she.

20. And when the king's decree, which he shall make, shall be published
throughout all his empire, (for it is great,) all the wives shall give
to their husbands honour, both to great and small.

21. And the saying pleased the king and the princes; and the king did
according to the word of Memucan:

22. For he sent letters into all the king's provinces, into every
province according to the writing thereof, and to every people after
their language, that every man should bear rule in his own house, and
that it should be published according to the language of every people.



CHAPTER II

ESTHER MADE QUEEN


1. After these things, when the wrath of king Ahasuerus was appeased, he
remembered Vashti, and what she had done, and what was decreed against
her.

2. Then said the king's servants that ministered unto him, Let there be
fair young virgins sought for the king:

3. And let the king appoint officers in all the provinces of his
kingdom, that they may gather together all the fair young virgins unto
Shushan the palace, to the house of the women, unto the custody of Hegai
the king's chamberlain, keeper of the women; and let their things for
purification be given them:

4. And let the maiden which pleaseth the king be queen instead of
Vashti. And the thing pleased the king; and he did so.

5. Now in Shushan the palace there was a certain Jew, whose name was
Mordecai, the son of Jair, the son of Shimei, the son of Kish, a
Benjamite;

6. Who had been carried away from Jerusalem with the captivity which had
been carried away with Jeconiah king of Judah, whom Nebuchadnezzar the
king of Babylon had carried away.

7. And he brought up Hadassah, that is, Esther, his uncle's daughter:
for she had neither father nor mother, and the maid was fair and
beautiful; whom Mordecai, when her father and mother were dead, took for
his own daughter.

8. So it came to pass, when the king's commandment and his decree was
heard, and when many maidens were gathered together unto Shushan the
palace, to the custody of Hegai, that Esther was brought also unto the
king's house, to the custody of Hegai, keeper of the women.

9. And the maiden pleased him, and she obtained kindness of him; and he
speedily gave her her things for purification, with such things as
belonged to her, and seven maidens, which were meet to be given her, out
of the king's house: and he preferred her and her maids unto the best
place of the house of the women.

10. Esther had not shewed her people nor her kindred: for Mordecai had
charged her that she should not shew it.

11. And Mordecai walked every day before the court of the women's house,
to know how Esther did, and what should become of her.

12. Now when every maid's turn was come to go in to king Ahasuerus,
after that she had been twelve months, according to the manner of the
women, (for so were the days of their purifications accomplished, to
wit, six months with oil of myrrh, and six months with sweet odours, and
with other things for the purifying of the women,)

13. Then thus came every maiden unto the king; whatsoever she desired
was given her to go with her out of the house of the women unto the
king's house.

14. In the evening she went, and on the morrow she returned into the
second house of the women, to the custody of Shaashgaz, the king's
chamberlain, which kept the concubines: she came in unto the king no
more, except the king delighted in her, and that she were called by
name.

15. Now when the turn of Esther, the daughter of Abihail the uncle of
Mordecai, who had taken her for his daughter, was come to go in unto the
king, she required nothing but what Hegai the king's chamberlain, the
keeper of the women, appointed. And Esther obtained favour in the sight
of all them that looked upon her.

16. So Esther was taken unto king Ahasuerus into his house royal in the
tenth month, which is the month Tebeth, in the seventh year of his
reign.

17. And the king loved Esther above all the women, and she obtained
grace and favour in his sight more than all the virgins; so that he set
the royal crown upon her head, and made her queen instead of Vashti.

18. Then the king made a great feast unto all his princes and his
servants, even Esther's feast; and he made a release to the provinces,
and gave gifts, according to the state of the king.

19. And when the virgins were gathered together the second time, then
Mordecai sat in the king's gate.

20. Esther had not yet shewed her kindred nor her people, as Mordecai
had charged her: for Esther did the commandment of Mordecai, like as
when she was brought up with him.


MORDECAI SAVES THE KING'S LIFE


21. In those days, while Mordecai sat in the king's gate, two of the
king's chamberlains, Bigthan and Teresh, of those which kept the door,
were wroth, and sought to lay hand on the king Ahasuerus.

22. And the thing was known to Mordecai, who told it unto Esther the
queen; and Esther certified the king thereof in Mordecai's name.

23. And when inquisition was made of the matter, it was found out;
therefore they were both hanged on a tree: and it was written in the
book of the chronicles before the king.



CHAPTER III

THE CONSPIRACY OF HAMAN


1. After these things did king Ahasuerus promote Haman the son of
Hammedatha the Agagite, and advanced him, and set his seat above all the
princes that were with him.

2. And all the king's servants, that were in the king's gate, bowed, and
reverenced Haman: for the king had so commanded concerning him. But
Mordecai bowed not, nor did him reverence.

3. Then the king's servants, which were in the king's gate, said unto
Mordecai, Why transgressest thou the king's commandment?

4. Now it came to pass, when they spake daily unto him, and he hearkened
not unto them, that they told Haman, to see whether Mordecai's matters
would stand: for he had told them that he was a Jew.

5. And when Haman saw that Mordecai bowed not, nor did him reverence,
then was Haman full of wrath.

6. And he thought scorn to lay hands on Mordecai alone; for they had
shewed him the people of Mordecai: wherefore Haman sought to destroy all
the Jews that were throughout the whole kingdom of Ahasuerus, even the
people of Mordecai.

7. In the first month, that is, the month Nisan, in the twelfth year of
king Ahasuerus, they cast Pur, that is, the lot, before Haman from day
to day, and from month to month, to the twelfth month, that is, the
month Adar.

8. And Haman said unto king Ahasuerus, There is a certain people
scattered abroad and dispersed among the people in all the provinces of
thy kingdom; and their laws are diverse from all people; neither keep
they the king's laws: therefore it is not for the king's profit to
suffer them.

9. If it please the king, let it be written that they may be destroyed:
and I will pay ten thousand talents of silver to the hands of those that
have the charge of the business, to bring it into the king's treasuries.

10. And the king took his ring from his hand, and gave it unto Haman the
son of Hammedatha the Agagite, the Jews' enemy.

11. And the king said unto Haman, The silver is given to thee, the
people also, to do with them as it seemeth good to thee.

12. Then were the king's scribes called on the thirteenth day of the
first month, and there was written according to all that Haman had
commanded unto the king's lieutenants, and to the governors that were
over every province, and to the rulers of every people of every province
according to the writing thereof, and to every people after their
language; in the name of king Ahasuerus was it written, and sealed with
the king's ring.

13. And the letters were sent by posts into all the king's provinces, to
destroy, to kill, and to cause to perish, all Jews, both young and old,
little children and women, in one day, even upon the thirteenth day of
the twelfth month, which is the month Adar, and to take the spoil of
them for a prey.

14. The copy of the writing for a commandment to be given in every
province was published unto all people, that they should be ready
against that day.

15. The posts went out, being hastened by the king's commandment, and
the decree was given in Shushan the palace. And the king and Haman sat
down to drink; but the city Shushan was perplexed.



CHAPTER IV

FASTING AMONG THE JEWS


1. When Mordecai perceived all that was done, Mordecai rent his clothes,
and put on sackcloth with ashes, and went out into the midst of the
city, and cried with a loud and a bitter cry;

2. And came even before the king's gate: for none might enter into the
king's gate clothed with sackcloth.

3. And in every province, whithersoever the king's commandment and his
decree came, there was great mourning among the Jews, and fasting, and
weeping, and wailing; and many lay in sackcloth and ashes.

4. So Esther's maids and her chamberlains came and told it her. Then was
the queen exceedingly grieved; and she sent raiment to clothe Mordecai,
and to take away his sackcloth from him: but he received it not.

5. Then called Esther for Hatach, one of the king's chamberlains, whom
he had appointed to attend upon her, and gave him a commandment to
Mordecai, to know what it was, and why it was.

6. So Hatach went forth to Mordecai unto the street of the city, which
was before the king's gate.

7. And Mordecai told him of all that had happened unto him, and of the
sum of the money that Haman had promised to pay to the king's treasuries
for the Jews, to destroy them.

8. Also he gave him the copy of the writing of the decree that was given
at Shushan to destroy them, to shew it unto Esther, and to declare it
unto her, and to charge her that she should go in unto the king, to make
supplication unto him, and to make request before him for her people.

9. And Hatach came and told Esther the words of Mordecai.

10. Again Esther spake unto Hatach, and gave him commandment unto
Mordecai;

11. All the king's servants, and the people of the king's provinces, do
know, that whosoever, whether man or woman, shall come unto the king
into the inner court, who is not called, there is one law of his to put
him to death, except such to whom the king shall hold out the golden
sceptre, that he may live: but I have not been called to come in unto
the king these thirty days.

12. And they told to Mordecai Esther's words.


THE GREAT APPEAL


13. Then Mordecai commanded to answer Esther, Think not with thyself
that thou shalt escape in the king's house, more than all the Jews.

14. For if thou altogether holdest thy peace at this time, then shall
there enlargement and deliverance arise to the Jews from another place;
but thou and thy father's house shall be destroyed: and who knoweth
whether thou art come to the kingdom for such a time as this?

15. Then Esther bade them return Mordecai this answer,

16. Go, gather together all the Jews that are present in Shushan, and
fast ye for me, and neither eat nor drink three days, night or day: I
also and my maidens will fast likewise; and so will I go in unto the
king, which is not according to the law: and if I perish, I perish.

17. So Mordecai went his way, and did according to all that Esther had
commanded him.



CHAPTER V

THE COURAGE OF ESTHER


1. Now it came to pass on the third day, that Esther put on her royal
apparel, and stood in the inner court of the king's house, over against
the king's house: and the king sat upon his royal throne in the royal
house, over against the gate of the house.

2. And it was so, when the king saw Esther the queen standing in the
court, that she obtained favour in his sight: and the king held out to
Esther the golden sceptre that was in his hand. So Esther drew near, and
touched the top of the sceptre.

3. Then said the king unto her, What wilt thou, queen Esther? and what
is thy request? it shall be even given thee to the half of the kingdom.

4. And Esther answered, If it seem good unto the king, let the king and
Haman come this day unto the banquet that I have prepared for him.

5. Then the king said, Cause Haman to make haste, that he may do as
Esther hath said. So the king and Haman came to the banquet that Esther
had prepared.

6. And the king said unto Esther at the banquet of wine, What is thy
petition? and it shall be granted thee: and what is thy request? even to
the half of the kingdom it shall be performed.

7. Then answered Esther, and said, My petition and my request is;

8. If I have found favour in the sight of the king, and if it please the
king to grant my petition, and to perform my request, let the king and
Haman come to the banquet that I shall prepare for them, and I will do
to-morrow as the king hath said.


BETWEEN BANQUETS


9. Then went Haman forth that day joyful and with a glad heart: but when
Haman saw Mordecai in the king's gate, that he stood not up, nor moved
for him, he was full of indignation against Mordecai.

10. Nevertheless Haman refrained himself: and when he came home, he sent
and called for his friends, and Zeresh his wife.

11. And Haman told them of the glory of his riches, and the multitude of
his children, and all the things wherein the king had promoted him, and
how he had advanced him above the princes and servants of the king.

12. Haman said moreover, Yea, Esther the queen did let no man come in
with the king unto the banquet that she had prepared but myself; and
to-morrow am I invited unto her also with the king.

13. Yet all this availeth me nothing, so long as I see Mordecai the Jew
sitting at the king's gate.

14. Then said Zeresh his wife and all his friends unto him, Let a
gallows be made of fifty cubits high, and to-morrow speak thou unto the
king that Mordecai may be hanged thereon: then go thou in merrily with
the king unto the banquet. And the thing pleased Haman; and he caused
the gallows to be made.



CHAPTER VI

BETWEEN BANQUETS (CONTINUED)


1. On that night could not the king sleep, and he commanded to bring the
book of records of the chronicles; and they were read before the king.

2. And it was found written, that Mordecai had told of Bigthana and
Teresh, two of the king's chamberlains, the keepers of the door, who
sought to lay hand on the king Ahasuerus.

3. And the king said, What honour and dignity hath been done to Mordecai
for this? Then said the king's servants that ministered unto him, There
is nothing done for him.

4. And the king said, Who is in the court? Now Haman was come into the
outward court of the king's house, to speak unto the king to hang
Mordecai on the gallows that he had prepared for him.

5. And the king's servants said unto him, Behold, Haman standeth in the
court. And the king said, Let him come in.

6. So Haman came in. And the king said unto him, What shall be done unto
the man whom the king delighteth to honour? Now Haman thought in his
heart, To whom would the king delight to do honour more than to myself?

7. And Haman answered the king, For the man whom the king delighteth to
honour,

8. Let the royal apparel be brought which the king useth to wear, and
the horse that the king rideth upon, and the crown royal which is set
upon his head:

9. And let this apparel and horse be delivered to the hand of one of the
king's most noble princes, that they may array the man withal whom the
king delighteth to honour, and bring him on horseback through the street
of the city, and proclaim before him, Thus shall it be done to the man
whom the king delighteth to honour.

10. Then the king said to Haman, Make haste, and take the apparel and
the horse, as thou hast said, and do even so to Mordecai the Jew, that
sitteth at the king's gate: let nothing fail of all that thou hast
spoken.

11. Then took Haman the apparel and the horse, and arrayed Mordecai, and
brought him on horseback through the street of the city, and proclaimed
before him, Thus shall it be done unto the man whom the king delighteth
to honour.

12. And Mordecai came again to the king's gate. But Haman hasted to his
house mourning, and having his head covered.

13. And Haman told Zeresh his wife and all his friends every thing that
had befallen him. Then said his wise men and Zeresh his wife unto him,
If Mordecai be of the seed of the Jews, before whom thou hast begun to
fall, thou shalt not prevail against him, but shalt surely fall before
him.

14. And while they were yet talking with him, came the king's
chamberlains, and hasted to bring Haman unto the banquet that Esther had
prepared.



CHAPTER VII

ESTHER'S BANQUET: HAMAN HANGED


1. So the king and Haman came to banquet with Esther the queen.

2. And the king said again unto Esther on the second day at the banquet
of wine, What is thy petition, queen Esther? and it shall be granted
thee: and what is thy request? and it shall be performed, even to the
half of the kingdom.

3. Then Esther the queen answered and said, If I have found favour in
thy sight, O king, and if it please the king, let my life be given me at
my petition, and my people at my request:

4. For we are sold, I and my people, to be destroyed, to be slain, and
to perish. But if we had been sold for bondmen and bondwomen, I had held
my tongue, although the enemy could not countervail the king's damage.

5. Then the king Ahasuerus answered and said unto Esther the queen, Who
is he, and where is he, that durst presume in his heart to do so?

6. And Esther said, The adversary and enemy is this wicked Haman. Then
Haman was afraid before the king and the queen.

7. And the king arising from the banquet of wine in his wrath went into
the palace garden: and Haman stood up to make request for his life to
Esther the queen; for he saw that there was evil determined against him
by the king.

8. Then the king returned out of the palace garden into the place of the
banquet of wine; and Haman was fallen upon the bed whereon Esther was.
Then said the king, Will he force the queen also before me in the house?
As the word went out of the king's mouth, they covered Haman's face.

9. And Harbona, one of the chamberlains, said before the king, Behold
also the gallows fifty cubits high, which Haman had made for Mordecai,
who had spoken good for the king, standeth in the house of Haman. Then
the king said, Hang him thereon.

10. So they hanged Haman on the gallows that he had prepared for
Mordecai. Then was the king's wrath pacified.



CHAPTER VIII

THE JEWS PERMITTED TO DEFEND THEMSELVES


1. On that day did the king Ahasuerus give the house of Haman the Jews'
enemy unto Esther the queen. And Mordecai came before the king; for
Esther had told what he was unto her.

2. And the king took off his ring, which he had taken from Haman, and
gave it unto Mordecai. And Esther set Mordecai over the house of Haman.

3. And Esther spake yet again before the king, and fell down at his
feet, and besought him with tears to put away the mischief of Haman the
Agagite, and his device that he had devised against the Jews,

4. Then the king held out the golden sceptre toward Esther. So Esther
arose, and stood before the king,

5. And said, If it please the king, and if I have found favour in his
sight, and the thing seem right before the king, and I be pleasing in
his eyes, let it be written to reverse the letters devised by Haman the
son of Hammedatha the Agagite, which he wrote to destroy the Jews which
are in all the king's provinces:

6. For how can I endure to see the evil that shall come unto my people?
or how can I endure to see the destruction of my kindred?

7. Then the king Ahasuerus said unto Esther the queen and to Mordecai
the Jew, Behold, I have given Esther the house of Haman, and him they
have hanged upon the gallows, because he laid his hand upon the Jews.

8. Write ye also for the Jews, as it liketh you, in the king's name, and
seal it with the king's ring: for the writing which is written in the
king's name, and sealed with the king's ring, may no man reverse.

9. Then were the king's scribes called at that time in the third month,
that is, the month Sivan, on the three and twentieth day thereof; and it
was written according to all that Mordecai commanded unto the Jews, and
to the lieutenants, and the deputies and rulers of the provinces which
are from India unto Ethiopia, a hundred twenty and seven provinces, unto
every province according to the writing thereof, and unto every people
after their language, and to the Jews according to their writing, and
according to their language.

10. And he wrote in the king Ahasuerus' name, and sealed it with the
king's ring, and sent letters by posts on horseback, and riders on
mules, camels, and young dromedaries:

11. Wherein the king granted the Jews which were in every city to gather
themselves together, and to stand for their life, to destroy, to slay,
and to cause to perish, all the power of the people and province that
would assault them, both little ones and women, and to take the spoil of
them for a prey,

12. Upon one day in all the provinces of king Ahasuerus, namely, upon
the thirteenth day of the twelfth month, which is the month Adar.

13. The copy of the writing for a commandment to be given in every
province was published unto all people, and that the Jews should be
ready against that day to avenge themselves on their enemies.

14. So the posts that rode upon mules and camels went out, being
hastened and pressed on by the king's commandment. And the decree was
given at Shushan the palace.

15. And Mordecai went out from the presence of the king in royal apparel
of blue and white, and with a great crown of gold, and with a garment of
fine linen and purple: and the city of Shushan rejoiced and was glad.

16. The Jews had light, and gladness, and joy, and honour.

17. And in every province, and in every city, whithersoever the king's
commandment and his decree came, the Jews had joy and gladness, a feast
and a good day. And many of the people of the land became Jews; for the
fear of the Jews fell upon them.



CHAPTER IX

THE JEWS DEFEND THEMSELVES


1. Now in the twelfth month, that is, the month Adar, on the thirteenth
day of the same, when the king's commandment and his decree drew near to
be put in execution, in the day that the enemies of the Jews hoped to
have power over them; (though it was turned to the contrary, that the
Jews had rule over them that hated them,)

2. The Jews gathered themselves together in their cities throughout all
the provinces of the king Ahasuerus, to lay hand on such as sought their
hurt: and no man could withstand them; for the fear of them fell upon
all people.

3. And all the rulers of the provinces, and the lieutenants, and the
deputies, and officers of the king, helped the Jews; because the fear of
Mordecai fell upon them.

4. For Mordecai was great in the king's house, and his fame went out
throughout all the provinces: for this man Mordecai waxed greater and
greater.

5. Thus the Jews smote all their enemies with the stroke of the sword,
and slaughter, and destruction, and did what they would unto those that
hated them.

6. And in Shushan the palace the Jews slew and destroyed five hundred
men.

7. And Parshandatha, and Dalphon, and Aspatha,

8. And Poratha, and Adalia, and Aridatha,

9. And Parmashta, and Arisai, and Aridai, and Vajezatha,

10. The ten sons of Haman the son of Hammedatha, the enemy of the Jews,
slew they; but on the spoil laid they not their hand.

11. On that day the number of those that were slain in Shushan the
palace was brought before the king.

12. And the king said unto Esther the queen, The Jews have slain and
destroyed five hundred men in Shushan the palace, and the ten sons of
Haman; what have they done in the rest of the king's provinces? now what
is thy petition? and it shall be granted thee: or what is thy request
further? and it shall be done.

13. Then said Esther, If it please the king, let it be granted to the
Jews which are in Shushan to do to-morrow also according unto this day's
decree, and let Haman's ten sons be hanged upon the gallows.

14. And the king commanded it so to be done: and the decree was given at
Shushan; and they hanged Haman's ten sons.

15. For the Jews that were in Shushan gathered themselves together on
the fourteenth day also of the month Adar, and slew three hundred men at
Shushan; but on the prey they laid not their hand.

16. But the other Jews that were in the king's provinces gathered
themselves together, and stood for their lives, and had rest from their
enemies, and slew of their foes seventy and five thousand, but they laid
not their hands on the prey,

17. On the thirteenth day of the month Adar; and on the fourteenth day
of the same rested they, and made it a day of feasting and gladness.

18. But the Jews that were at Shushan assembled together on the
thirteenth day thereof, and on the fourteenth thereof; and on the
fifteenth day of the same they rested, and made it a day of feasting and
gladness.

19. Therefore the Jews of the villages, that dwelt in the unwalled
towns, made the fourteenth day of the month Adar a day of gladness and
feasting, and a good day, and of sending portions one to another.


THE FEAST OF PURIM


20. And Mordecai wrote these things, and sent letters unto all the Jews
that were in all the provinces of the king Ahasuerus, both nigh and far,

21. To establish this among them, that they should keep the fourteenth
day of the month Adar, and the fifteenth day of the same, yearly,

22. As the days wherein the Jews rested from their enemies, and the
month which was turned unto them from sorrow to joy, and from mourning
into a good day: that they should make them days of feasting and joy,
and of sending portions one to another, and gifts to the poor.

23. And the Jews undertook to do as they had begun, and as Mordecai had
written unto them;

24. Because Haman the son of Hammedatha, the Agagite, the enemy of all
the Jews, had devised against the Jews to destroy them, and had cast
Pur, that is, the lot, to consume them, and to destroy them;

25. But when Esther came before the king, he commanded by letters that
his wicked device, which he devised against the Jews, should return upon
his own head, and that he and his sons should be hanged on the gallows.

26. Wherefore they called these days Purim after the name of Pur.
Therefore for all the words of this letter, and of that which they had
seen concerning this matter, and which had come unto them,

27. The Jews ordained, and took upon them, and upon their seed, and upon
all such as joined themselves unto them, so as it should not fail, that
they would keep these two days according to their writing, and according
to their appointed time every year;

28. And that these days should be remembered and kept throughout every
generation, every family, every province, and every city; and that these
days of Purim should not fail from among the Jews, nor the memorial of
them perish from their seed.

29. Then Esther the queen, the daughter of Abihail, and Mordecai the
Jew, wrote with all authority, to confirm this second letter of Purim.

30. And he sent the letters unto all the Jews, to the hundred twenty and
seven provinces of the kingdom of Ahasuerus, with words of peace and
truth,

31. To confirm these days of Purim in their times appointed, according
as Mordecai the Jew and Esther the queen had enjoined them, and as they
had decreed for themselves and for their seed, the matters of the
fastings and their cry.

32. And the decree of Esther confirmed these matters of Purim; and it
was written in the book.



CHAPTER X

MORDECAI PRIME MINISTER


1. And the king Ahasuerus laid a tribute upon the land, and upon the
isles of the sea.

2. And all the acts of his power and of his might, and the declaration
of the greatness of Mordecai, whereunto the king advanced him, are they
not written in the book of the chronicles of the kings of Media and
Persia?

3. For Mordecai the Jew was next unto king Ahasuerus, and great among
the Jews, and accepted of the multitude of his brethren, seeking the
wealth of his people, and speaking peace to all his seed.




II. THE HISTORY OF ALI BABA AND THE FORTY ROBBERS[*]

[* From "The Arabian Nights."]

AUTHOR UNKNOWN


[_Setting_. This story, like "Esther," takes place in Persia. The
stories of "The Arabian Nights" as a whole probably originated in India,
were modified and augmented by the Persians, and had the finishing
touches put upon them by the Arabians. Bagdad on the Tigris is the city
that figures most prominently in the stories, and the good caliph Haroun
Al-Raschid (or Alraschid), who ruled from 786 to 809, A.D., is the
monarch most often mentioned.

"A goodly place, a goodly time,
For it was in the golden prime
  Of good Haroun Alraschid."

However old the germs of the stories are, the form in which we have them
hardly antedates the year 1450. The absence of all mention of coffee and
tobacco precludes, at least, a date much later. They began to be
translated into the languages of Europe during the reign of Queen Anne
and, with the exception of the Old Testament, have been the chief
orientalizing influence in modern literature. The setting of "Ali Baba"
shows the four characteristics of all these Perso-Arabian tales: it has
to do with town life, not country life; it presupposes one faith, the
Mohammedan; it shows a fondness for magic; and it takes for granted an
audience interested not in moral or ethical distinctions but in
story-telling for story-telling's sake.

_Plot_. The plot of the short story as a distinct type of literature has
been said to show a steady progress from the impossible through the
improbable and probable to the inevitable. When we say of a story that
the conclusion is inevitable we mean that, with the given background and
characters, it could not have ended in any other way, just as, with a
given multiplier and multiplicand, one product and only one is possible.
This cannot be said of "Ali Baba," because the five parts are not linked
together in a logical sequence as are the events in "The Gold-Bug," or
by any controlling idea of reform such as we find in "A Christmas
Carol," or by any underlying moral purpose like that which gives unity
and dignity to "The Great Stone Face." These Perso-Arabian tales, in
other words, are stories of random incident, loosely but charmingly
told, with always the note of strangeness and unexpectedness. The
incidents, however, reflect accurately the manners and customs of time
and place. We do not believe that a door ever opened to the magic of
mere words, but we do believe and cannot help believing that the author
tells the truth when he writes of leather jars full of oil, of bands of
mounted robbers, of a poor man who could support himself by hauling wood
from the free-for-all forest, of slavery from which one might escape by
notable fidelity, of funeral rites performed by the imaum and other
ministers of the mosque, and of the unwillingness of an assassin to
attempt the life of a man with whom he had just eaten salt. Fancy, it is
true, mingles with fact in "The Arabian Nights," but it does not replace
fact.

_Characters_. Morgiana is the leading character. She furnishes all the
brains employed in the story. The narrator praises her "courage" twice,
but she had more than courage. Fidelity, initiative, and resourcefulness
must also be put among her assets. We can hardly imagine her as acting
from Esther's high motive, but she lived up to the best standards of
conduct that she knew. Whoever serves as a model for his own time may
serve as a model for ours. Duties change, but duty remains.]



I

CASSIM, ALI BABA'S BROTHER, DISCOVERED AND KILLED BY THE ROBBERS


There once lived in a town of Persia two brothers, one named Cassim and
the other Ali Baba. Their father divided his small property equally
between them. Cassim married a very rich wife, and became a wealthy
merchant. Ali Baba married a woman as poor as himself, and lived by
cutting wood and bringing it upon three asses into the town to sell.

One day, when Ali Baba had cut just enough wood in the forest to load
his asses, he noticed far off a great cloud of dust. As it drew nearer,
he saw that it was made by a body of horsemen, whom he suspected to be
robbers. Leaving the asses, he climbed a large tree which grew on a high
rock, and had branches thick enough to hide him completely while he saw
what passed beneath. The troop, forty in number, all well mounted and
armed, came to the foot of the rock on which the tree stood, and there
dismounted. Each man unbridled his horse, tied him to a shrub, and hung
about his neck a bag of corn. Then each of them took off his saddle-bag,
which from its weight seemed to Ali Baba full of gold and silver. One,
whom he took to be their captain, came under the tree in which Ali Baba
was concealed; and, making his way through some shrubs, spoke the words:
"Open, Sesame."[*] As soon as the captain of the robbers said this, a
door opened in the rock, and after he had made all his troop enter
before him, he followed them, when the door shut again of itself.

[* Sesame (pronounced _sessamy_), a small grain.]

The robbers stayed some time within, and Ali Baba, fearful of being
caught, remained in the tree. At last the door opened again, and the
captain came out first, and stood to see all the troop pass by him. Then
Ali Baba heard him make the door close by saying: "Shut, Sesame." Every
man at once bridled his horse, fastened his wallet, and mounted again.
When the captain saw them all ready, he put himself at their head, and
they returned the way they had come.

Ali Baba watched them out of sight, and then waited some time before
coming down. Wishing to see whether the captain's words would have the
same effect if he should speak them, he found the door hidden in the
shrubs, stood before it, and said: "Open, Sesame." Instantly the door
flew wide open.

Instead of a dark, dismal cavern, Ali Baba was surprised to see a large
chamber, well lighted from the top, and in it all sorts of provisions,
rich bales of silk, brocade and carpeting, gold and silver ingots in
great heaps, and money in bags.

Ali Baba went boldly into the cave, and collected as much of the gold
coin, which was in bags, as he thought his asses could carry. When he
had loaded them with the bags, he laid wood over them so that they could
not be seen, and, passing out of the door for the last time, stood
before it and said: "Shut, Sesame." The door closed of itself, and he
made the best of his way to town.

When he reached home, he carefully closed the gate of his little yard,
threw off the wood, and carried the bags into the house. They were
emptied before his wife, and the great heap of gold dazzled her eyes.
Then he told her the whole adventure, and warned her, above all things,
to keep it secret.

Ali Baba would not let her take the time to count it out as she wished,
but said: "I will dig a hole and bury it."

"But let us know as nearly as may be," she said, "how much we have. I
will borrow a small measure, and measure it, while you dig a hole."

Away she ran to the wife of Cassim, who lived near by, and asked for a
measure. The sister-in-law, knowing Ali Baba's poverty, was curious to
learn what sort of grain his wife wished to measure out, and artfully
managed to put some suet in the bottom of the measure before she handed
it over. Ali Baba's wife wanted to show how careful she was in small
matters, and, after she had measured the gold, hurried back, even while
her husband was burying it, with the borrowed measure, never noticing
that a coin had stuck to its bottom.

"What," said Cassim's wife, as soon as her sister-in-law had left her,
"has Ali Baba gold in such plenty that he measures it? Whence has he all
this wealth?" And envy possessed her breast.

When Cassim came home, she said to him: "Cassim, you think yourself
rich, but Ali Baba is much richer. He does not count his money; he
measures it." Then she explained to him how she had found it out, and
they looked together at the piece of money, which was so old that they
could not tell in what prince's reign it was coined.

Cassim, since marrying the rich widow, had never treated Ali Baba as a
brother, but neglected him. Now, instead of being pleased, he was filled
with a base envy. Early in the morning, after a sleepless night, he went
to him and said: "Ali Baba, you pretend to be wretchedly poor, and yet
you measure gold. My wife found this at the bottom of the measure you
borrowed yesterday."

Ali Baba saw that there was no use of trying to conceal his good
fortune, and told the whole story, offering his brother part of the
treasure to keep the secret.

"I expect as much," replied Cassim haughtily; "but I must know just
where this treasure is and how to visit it myself when I choose.
Otherwise I will inform against you, and you will lose even what you
have now."

Ali Baba told him all he wished to know, even to the words he must speak
at the door of the cave.

Cassim rose before the sun the next morning, and set out for the forest
with ten mules bearing great chests which he meant to fill. With little
trouble he found the rock and the door, and, standing before it, spoke
the words: "Open, Sesame." The door opened at once, and when he was
within closed upon him. Here indeed were the riches of which his brother
had told. He quickly brought as many bags of gold as he could carry to
the door of the cavern; but his thoughts were so full of his new wealth,
that he could not think of the word that should let him out. Instead of
"Sesame," he said "Open, Barley," and was much amazed to find that the
door remained fast shut. He named several sorts of grain, but still the
door would not open.

Cassim had never expected such a disaster, and was so frightened that
the more he tried to recall the word "Sesame," the more confused his
mind became. It was as if he had never heard the word at all. He threw
down the bags in his hands, and walked wildly up and down, without a
thought of the riches lying round about him.

At noon the robbers visited their cave. From afar they saw Cassim's
mules straggling about the rock, and galloped full speed to the cave.
Driving the mules out of sight, they went at once, with their naked
sabres in their hands, to the door, which opened as soon as the captain
had spoken the proper words before it.

Cassim had heard the noise of the horses' feet, and guessed that the
robbers had come. He resolved to make one effort for his life. As soon
as the door opened, he rushed out and threw the leader down, but could
not pass the other robbers, who with their scimitars soon put him to
death.

The first care of the robbers was to examine the cave. They found all
the bags Cassim had brought to the door, but did not miss what Ali Baba
had taken. As for Cassim himself, they guessed rightly that, once
within, he could not get out again; but how he had managed to learn
their secret words that let him in, they could not tell. One thing was
certain,--there he was; and to warn all others who might know their
secret and follow in Cassim's footsteps, they agreed to cut his body
into four quarters--to hang two on one side and two on the other, within
the door of the cave. This they did at once, and leaving the place of
their hoards well closed, mounted their horses and set out to attack the
caravans they might meet.



II

THE MANNER OF CASSIM'S DEATH CONCEALED


When night came, and Cassim did not return, his wife became very uneasy.
She ran to Ali Baba for comfort, and he told her that Cassim would
certainly think it unwise to enter the town till night was well
advanced. By midnight Cassim's wife was still more alarmed, and wept
till morning, cursing her desire to pry into the affairs of her brother
and sister-in-law. In the early day she went again, in tears, to Ali
Baba.

He did not wait for her to ask him to go and see what had happened to
Cassim, but set out at once for the forest with his three asses. Finding
some blood at the door of the cave, he took it for an ill omen; but when
he had spoken the words, and the door had opened, he was struck with
horror at the dismal sight of his brother's body. He could not leave it
there, and hastened within to find something to wrap around it. Laying
the body on one of his asses, he covered it with wood. The other two
asses he loaded with bags of gold, covering them also with wood as
before. Then bidding the door shut, he came away, but stopped some time
at the edge of the forest, that he might not go into the town before
night. When he reached home he left the two asses, laden with gold, in
his little yard for his wife to unload, and led the other to his
sister-in-law's house.

Ali Baba knocked at the door, which was opened by Morgiana, a clever
slave, full of devices to conquer difficulties. When he came into the
court and unloaded the ass, he took Morgiana aside, and said to her:--

"You must observe a strict secrecy. Your master's body is contained in
these two panniers. We must bury him as if he had died a natural death.
Go now and tell your mistress. I leave the matter to your wit and
skillful devices."

They placed the body in Cassim's house, and, charging Morgiana to act
well her part, Ali Baba returned home with his ass.

Early the next morning, Morgiana went to a druggist, and asked for a
sort of lozenge used in the most dangerous illness. When he asked her
for whom she wanted it, she answered with a sigh: "My good master
Cassim. He can neither eat nor speak." In the evening she went to the
same druggist, and with tears in her eyes asked for an essence given to
sick persons for whose life there is little hope. "Alas!" said she, "I
am afraid even this will not save my good master."

All that day Ali Baba and his wife were seen going sadly between their
house and Cassim's, and in the evening nobody was surprised to hear the
shrieks and cries of Cassim's wife and Morgiana, who told everybody that
her master was dead.

The next morning at daybreak she went to an old cobbler, who was always
early at work, and, putting a piece of gold in his hand, said:--

"Baba Mustapha, you must bring your sewing-tackle and come with me; but
I must tell you, I shall blindfold you when we reach a certain place."

"Oh! oh!" replied he, "you would have me do something against my
conscience or my honor."

"God forbid!" said Morgiana, putting another piece of gold in his hand;
"only come along with me, and fear nothing."

Baba Mustapha went with Morgiana, and at a certain place she bound his
eyes with a handkerchief, which she never unloosed till they had entered
the room of her master's house, where she had put the corpse together.

"Baba Mustapha," said she, "you must make haste, and sew the parts of
this body together, and when you have done, I will give you another
piece of gold."

After Baba Mustapha had finished his task, she blindfolded him again,
gave him the third piece of gold she had promised, and, charging him
with secrecy, took him back to the place where she had first bound his
eyes. Taking off the bandage, she watched him till he was out of sight,
lest he should return and dog her; then she went home.

At Cassim's house she made all things ready for the funeral, which was
duly performed by the imaum[*] and other ministers of the mosque.
Morgiana, as a slave of the dead man, walked in the procession, weeping,
beating her breast, and tearing her hair. Cassim's wife stayed at home,
uttering doleful cries with the women of the neighborhood, who,
according to custom, came to mourn with her. The whole quarter was
filled with sounds of sorrow.

[* Imaum, a Mohammedan priest.]

Thus the manner of Cassim's death was hushed up, and, besides his widow,
Ali Baba, and Morgiana, the slave, nobody in the city suspected the
cause of it. Three or four days after the funeral, Ali Baba removed his
few goods openly to his sister-in-law's house, in which he was to live
in the future; but the money he had taken from the robbers was carried
thither by night. As for Cassim's warehouse, Ali Baba put it entirely
under the charge of his eldest son.



III

THE ROBBERS' PLOT FOILED BY MORGIANA


While all this was going on, the forty robbers again visited their cave
in the forest. Great was their surprise to find Cassim's body taken
away, with some of their bags of gold.

"We are certainly found out," said the captain; "the body and the money
have been taken by some one else who knows our secret. For our own
lives' sake, we must try and find him. What say you, my lads?"

The robbers all agreed that this must be done.

"Well," said the captain, "one of you, the boldest and most skillful,
must go to the town, disguised as a stranger, and try if he can hear any
talk of the man we killed, and find out where he lived. This matter is
so important that the man who undertakes it and fails should suffer
death. What say you?"

One of the robbers, without waiting to know what the rest might think,
started up, and said: "I submit to this condition, and think it an honor
to expose my life to serve the troop."

This won great praise from the robber's comrades, and he disguised
himself at once so that nobody could take him for what he was. Just at
daybreak he entered the town, and walked up and down till he came by
chance to Baba Mustapha's stall, which was always open before any of the
shops.

The old cobbler was just going to work when the robber bade him
good-morrow, and said:--

"Honest man, you begin to work very early; how can one of your age see
so well? Even if it were lighter, I question whether you could see to
stitch."

"You do not know me," replied Baba Mustapha; "for old as I am I have
excellent eyes. You will not doubt me when I tell you that I sewed the
body of a dead man together in a place where I had not so much light as
I have now."

"A dead body!" exclaimed the robber amazed.

"Yes, yes," answered Baba Mustapha; "I see you want to know more, but
you shall not."

The robber felt sure that he was on the right track. He put a piece of
gold into Baba Mustapha's hand, and said to him:--

"I do not want to learn your secret, though you could safely trust me
with it. The only thing I ask of you is to show me the house where you
stitched up the dead body."

"I could not do that," replied Baba Mustapha, "if I would. I was taken
to a certain place, whence I was led blindfold to the house, and
afterwards brought back again in the same manner."

"Well," replied the robber, "you may remember a little of the way that
you were led blindfold. Come, let me blind your eyes at the same place.
We will walk together, and perhaps you may recall the way. Here is
another piece of gold for you."

This was enough to bring Baba Mustapha to his feet. They soon reached
the place where Morgiana had bandaged his eyes, and here he was
blindfolded again. Baba Mustapha and the robber walked on till they came
to Cassim's house, where Ali Baba now lived. Here the old man stopped,
and when the thief pulled off the band, and found that his guide could
not tell him whose house it was, he let him go. But before he started
back for the forest himself, well pleased with what he had learned, he
marked the door with a piece of chalk which he had ready in his hand.

Soon after this Morgiana came out upon some errand, and when she
returned she saw the mark the robber had made, and stopped to look at
it.

"What can this mean?" she said to herself. "Somebody intends my master
harm, and in any case it is best to guard against the worst." Then she
fetched a piece of chalk, and marked two or three doors on each side in
the same manner, saying nothing to her master or mistress.

When the robber rejoined his troop in the forest, and told of his good
fortune in meeting the one man that could have helped him, they were all
delighted.

"Comrades," said the captain, "we have no time to lose. Let us set off
at once, well armed and disguised, enter the town by twos, and join at
the great square. Meanwhile our comrade who has brought us the good news
and I will go and find out the house, and decide what had best be done."

Two by two they entered the town. Last of all went the captain and the
spy. When they came to the first of the houses which Morgiana had
marked, the spy pointed it out. But the captain noticed that the next
door was chalked in the same manner, and asked his guide which house it
was, that or the first. The guide knew not what answer to make, and was
still more puzzled when he and the captain saw five or six houses marked
after this same fashion. He assured the captain, with an oath, that he
had marked but one, and could not tell who had chalked the rest, nor
could he say at which house the cobbler had stopped.

There was nothing to do but to join the other robbers, and tell them to
go back to the cave. Here they were told why they had all returned, and
the guide was declared by all to be worthy of death. Indeed, he
condemned himself, owning that he ought to have been more careful, and
prepared to receive the stroke which was to cut off his head.

The safety of the troop still demanded that the second comer to the cave
should be found, and another of the gang offered to try it, with the
same penalty if he should fail. Like the other robber, he found out Baba
Mustapha, and, through him, the house, which he marked, in a place
remote from sight, with red chalk.

But nothing could escape Morgiana's eyes, and when she went out, not
long after, and saw the red chalk, she argued with herself as before,
and marked the other houses near by in the same place and manner.

The robber, when he told his comrades what he had done, prided himself
on his carefulness, and the captain and all the troop thought they must
succeed this time. Again they entered the town by twos; but when the
robber and his captain came to the street, they found the same trouble.
The captain was enraged, and the robber as much confused as the former
guide had been. Thus the captain and his troop went back again to the
cave, and the robber who had failed willingly gave himself up to death.



IV

THE ROBBERS, EXCEPT THE CAPTAIN, DISCOVERED AND KILLED BY MORGIANA


The captain could not afford to lose any more of his brave fellows, and
decided to take upon himself the task in which two had failed. Like the
others, he went to Baba Mustapha, and was shown the house. Unlike them
he put no mark on it, but studied it carefully and passed it so often
that he could not possibly mistake it.

When he returned to the troop, who were waiting for him in the cave, he
said:--

"Now, comrades, nothing can prevent our full revenge, as I am certain of
the house. As I returned I thought of a way to do our work, but if any
one thinks of a better, let him speak."

He told them his plan, and, as they thought it good, he ordered them to
go into the villages about, and buy nineteen mules, with thirty-eight
large leather jars, one full of oil, and the others empty. Within two or
three days they returned with the mules and the jars, and as the mouths
of the jars were rather too narrow for the captain's purpose, he caused
them to be widened. Having put one of his men into each jar, with the
weapons which he thought fit, and having a seam wide enough open for
each man to breathe, he rubbed the jars on the outside with oil from the
full vessel.

Thus prepared they set out for the town, the nineteen mules loaded with
the thirty-seven robbers in jars, and the jar of oil, with the captain
as their driver. When he reached Ali Baba's door, he found Ali Baba
sitting there taking a little fresh air after his supper. The captain
stopped his mules, and said:--

"I have brought some oil a great way to sell at to-morrow's market; and
it is now so late that I do not know where to lodge. Will you do me the
favor to let me pass the night with you?"

Though Ali Baba had seen the captain in the forest, and had heard him
speak, he could not know him in the disguise of an oil-merchant, and
bade him welcome. He opened his gates for the mules to go into the yard,
and ordered a slave to put them in a stable and feed them when they were
unloaded, and then called Morgiana to get a good supper for his guest.
After supper he charged her afresh to take good care of the stranger,
and said to her:--

"To-morrow morning I intend to go to the bath before day; take care to
have my bathing linen ready; give it to Abdalla" (which was his slave's
name), "and make me some good broth against my return." After this he
went to bed.

In the mean time the captain of the robbers went into the yard, and took
off the lid of each jar, and told his people what they must do. To each,
in turn, he said:--

"As soon as I throw some stones out of the chamber window where I lie,
do not fail to come out, and I will join you at once."

Then he went into the house, and Morgiana showed him his chamber, where
he soon put out the light, and laid himself down in his clothes.

To carry out Ali Baba's orders, Morgiana got his bathing linen ready,
and bade Abdalla to set on the pot for the broth; but soon the lamp went
out, and there was no more oil in the house, nor any candles. She knew
not what to do, till the slave reminded her of the oil-jars in the yard.
She thanked him for the thought, took the oil-pot, and went out. When
she came nigh the first jar, the robber within said softly: "Is it
time?"

Of course she was surprised to find a man in the jar instead of the oil,
but she saw at once that she must keep silence, as Ali Baba, his family,
and she herself were in great danger. Therefore she answered, without
showing any fear: "Not yet, but presently." In this manner she went to
all the jars and gave the same answers, till she came to the jar of oil.

By this means Morgiana found that her master had admitted to his house
thirty-eight robbers, of whom the pretended oil-merchant, their captain,
was one. She made what haste she could to fill her oil-pot, and returned
to her kitchen, lighted her lamp, and taking a great kettle went back to
the oil-jar and filled it. Then she set the kettle on a large wood fire,
and as soon as it boiled went and poured enough into every jar to stifle
and destroy the robber within.

When this deed, worthy of the courage of Morgiana, was done without any
noise, as she had planned, she returned to the kitchen with the empty
kettle, put out the lamp, and left just enough of the fire to make the
broth. Then she sat silent, resolving not to go to rest till she had
seen through the window that opened on the yard whatever might happen
there.

It was not long before the captain of the robbers got up, and, seeing
that all was dark and quiet, gave the appointed signal by throwing
little stones, some of which hit the jars, as he doubted not by the
sound they gave. As there was no response, he threw stones a second and
a third time, and could not imagine why there was no answer to his
signal.

Much alarmed, he went softly down into the yard, and, going to the first
jar to ask the robber if he was ready, smelt the hot boiled oil, which
sent forth a steam out of the jar. From this he suspected that his plot
was found out, and, looking into the jars one by one, he found that all
his gang were dead. Enraged to despair, he forced the lock of a door
that led from the yard to the garden, and made his escape. When Morgiana
saw him go, she went to bed, well pleased that she had saved her master.
and his family.

Ali Baba rose before day, and went to the baths without knowing of what
had happened in the night. When he returned he was very much surprised
to see the oil-jars in the yard and the mules in the stable.

"God preserve you and all your family," said Morgiana when she was asked
what it meant; "you will know better when you have seen what I have to
show you."

So saying she led him to the first jar, and asked him to see if there
was any oil. When he saw a man instead, he started back in alarm.

"Do not be afraid," said Morgiana; "he can do neither you nor anybody
else the least harm. He is dead. Now look into all the other jars."

Ali Baba was more and more amazed as he went on, and saw all the dead
men and the sunken oil-jar at the end. He stood looking from the jars to
Morgiana, till he found words to ask: "And what is become of the
merchant?"

"Merchant!" answered she; "he is as much one as I am."

Then she led him into the house, and told of all that she had done, from
the first noticing of the chalk-mark to the death of the robbers and the
flight of their captain. On hearing of these brave deeds from Morgiana's
own lips, Ali Baba said to her:--

"God, by your means, has delivered me from death. For the first token of
what I owe you, I give you your liberty from this moment, till I can
fully reward you as I intend."

Near the trees at the end of Ali Baba's long garden, he and Abdalla dug
a trench large enough to hold the bodies of the robbers. When they were
buried there, Ali Baba hid the jars and weapons; and as the mules were
of no use to him, he sent them at different times to be sold in the
market by his slave.



V

THE CAPTAIN DISCOVERED AND KILLED BY MORGIANA


The captain of the forty robbers had returned to his cave in the forest,
but found himself so lonely there that the place became frightful to
him. He resolved at the same time to avenge the fate of his comrades,
and to bring about the death of Ali Baba. For this purpose he returned
to the town, disguised as a merchant of silks. By degrees he brought
from his cavern many sorts of fine stuffs, and to dispose of these he
took a warehouse that happened to be opposite Cassim's, which Ali Baba's
son had occupied since the death of his uncle.

He took the name of Cogia Houssain, and as a newcomer was very civil to
the merchants near him. Ali Baba's son was one of the first to converse
with him, and the new merchant was most friendly. Within two or three
days Ali Baba came to see his son, and the captain of the robbers knew
him at once, and soon learned from his son who he was. From that time
forth he was still more polite to Ali Baba's son, who soon felt bound to
repay the many kindnesses of his new friend.

As his own house was small, he arranged with his father that on a
certain afternoon, when he and the merchant were passing by Ali Baba's
house, they should stop, and he should ask them both to sup with him.
This plan was carried out, though at first the merchant, with whose own
plans it agreed perfectly, made as if to excuse himself. He even gave it
as a reason for not remaining that he could eat no salt in his victuals.

"If that is all," said Ali Baba, "it need not deprive me of the honor of
your company"; and he went to the kitchen and told Morgiana to put no
salt into anything she was cooking that evening.

Thus Cogia Houssain was persuaded to stay, but to Morgiana it seemed
very strange that any one should refuse to eat salt. She wished to see
what manner of man it might be, and to this end, when she had finished
what she had to do in the kitchen, she helped Abdalla carry up the
dishes. Looking at Cogia Houssain, she knew him at first sight, in spite
of his disguise, to be the captain of the robbers, and, scanning him
very closely, saw that he had a dagger under his garment.

"I see now why this greatest enemy of my master would eat no salt with
him. He intends to kill him; but I will prevent him."

While they were at supper Morgiana made up her mind to do one of the
boldest deeds ever conceived. She dressed herself like a dancer, girded
her waist with a silver-gilt girdle, from which hung a poniard, and put
a handsome mask on her face. Then, when the supper was ended, she said
to Abdalla:--

"Take your tabor, and let us go and divert our master and his son's
friend, as we sometimes do when he is alone."

They presented themselves at the door with a low bow, and Morgiana was
bidden to enter and show Cogia Houssain how well she danced. This, he
knew, would interrupt him in carrying out his wicked purpose, but he had
to make the best of it, and to seem pleased with Morgiana's dancing. She
was indeed a good dancer, and on this occasion outdid herself in
graceful and surprising motions. At the last, she took the tabor from
Abdalla's hand, and held it out like those who dance for money.

Ali Baba put a piece of gold into it, and so did his son. When Cogia
Houssain saw that she was coming to him, he pulled out his purse from
his bosom to make her a present; but while he was putting his hand into
it, Morgiana, with courage worthy of herself, plunged the poniard into
his heart.

"Unhappy woman!" exclaimed Ali Baba, "what have you done to ruin me and
my family?"

"It was to preserve, not to ruin you," answered Morgiana. Then she
showed the dagger in Cogia Houssain's garment, and said: "Look well at
him, and you will see that he is both the pretended oil-merchant and the
captain of the band of forty robbers. As soon as you told me that he
would eat no salt with you, I suspected who it was, and when I saw him,
I knew."

Ali Baba embraced her, and said: "Morgiana, I gave you your liberty
before, and promised you more in time; now I would make you my
daughter-in-law. Consider," he said, turning to his son, "that by
marrying Morgiana, you marry the preserver of my family and yours."

The son was all the more ready to carry out his father's wishes, because
they were the same as his own, and within a few days he and Morgiana
were married, but before this, the captain of the robbers was buried
with his comrades, and so secretly was it done, that their bones were
not found till many years had passed, when no one had any concern in
making this strange story known.

For a whole year Ali Baba did not visit the robbers' cave. At the end of
that time, as nobody had tried to disturb him, he made another journey
to the forest, and, standing before the entrance to the cave, said:
"Open, Sesame." The door opened at once, and from the appearance of
everything within the cavern, he judged that nobody had been there since
the captain had fetched the goods for his shop. From this time forth, he
took as much of the treasure as his needs demanded. Some years later he
carried his son to the cave, and taught him the secret, which he handed
down in his family, who used their good fortune wisely, and lived in
great honor and splendor.




III. RIP VAN WINKLE[*] (1819)

[* From "The Sketch Book." The elaborate Knickerbocker notes with which
Irving, following a passing fashion of the time, sought to mystify the
reader, are here omitted. They are hindrances now rather than helps.]

BY WASHINGTON IRVING (1783-1859)


[_Setting_. The Hudson River and the Kaatskill Mountains were first
brought into literature through this story, Irving being the first
American master of local color and local tradition. Since 1870 the
American short story, following the example of Irving, has been the
leading agency by which the South, the West, and New England have made
known and thus perpetuated their local scenery, legends, customs, and
dialect. Irving, however, seemed afraid of dialect. There were, it is
true, many legends about the Hudson before Irving was born, but they had
found no expression in literature. Mrs. Josiah Quincy, who made a voyage
up the Hudson in 1786, wrote: "Our captain had a legend for every scene,
either supernatural or traditional or of actual occurrence during the
war, and not a mountain reared its head unconnected with some marvellous
story." Irving, therefore, did not have to manufacture local traditions;
he only gave them wider currency and fitted them more artistically into
their natural settings.

Irving chose for his setting the twenty years that embrace the
Revolutionary War because the numerous social and political changes that
took place then enabled him to bring Rip back after his sleep into a
"world not realized." You will appreciate much better the art of this
time-setting if you will try your hand on a somewhat similar story and
place it between 1820 and 1840, when railroads, telegraph lines, and
transatlantic steamers made a new world out of the old; or, if your
story takes place in the South, you might make your background include
the interval between 1855 and 1875, when slavery was abolished, when the
old plantation system was changed, when the names of new heroes emerged,
and when new social and political and industrial problems had to be
grappled with.

_Plot_. The plot is divided into two almost equal parts, which we may
call "before and after taking." A recent critic has said: "The actual
forward movement of the plot does not begin until the sentence, 'In a
long ramble of the kind on a fine autumnal day, Rip had unconsciously
scrambled to one of the highest parts of the Kaatskill Mountains.'" The
critic has missed, I think, the main structural excellence of the story.
Dame Van Winkle, the children who hung around Rip, his own children, his
dog, the social club at the inn with the portrait of George the Third,
Van Bummel, and Nicholas Vedder, all had to be mentioned before Rip
began the ascent of the mountain. Otherwise, when he returned, we should
have had no means of measuring the swift passage of time during his
sleep. Each is a skillfully set timepiece or milepost which, on Rip's
return, misleads the poor fellow at every turn and thus produces the
exact kind of "totality of effect" that Irving intended. The forward
movement of the plot begins with this careful planning of the route that
Rip is to take on his return trip, when twenty years shall have done
their work. Cut out these _points de repere_ and see how effectively the
forward movement of the plot is retarded.

_Characters_. Rip was the first character in American fiction to be
known far beyond our own borders, and he remains one of the best known.
In the class with him belong James Fenimore Cooper's Leatherstocking (or
Natty Bumppo), Harriet Beecher Stowe's Uncle Tom, Joel Chandler Harris's
Uncle Remus, and Mark Twain's Huckleberry Finn and Tom Sawyer. He has
been called un-American, and so he is, and so Irving plainly intended
him to be. If one insists on finding a bit of distinctive Americanism
somewhere in the story, he will find it not in Rip but in the number and
rapidity of the changes that American life underwent during the twenty
years that serve as background to the story. George William Curtis calls
Rip "the constant and unconscious satirist of American life," but surely
Irving would have smiled at finding so purposeful a mission laid upon
the stooping shoulders of his vagabond ne'er-do-well hero. Rip is no
satirist, conscious or unconscious. He is a provincial Dutch type, such
as Irving had seen a hundred times; but he is so lovable and is sketched
so lovingly that we hardly realize the consummate art, the human
sympathy, and the keen powers of observation that have gone into his
making. Every other character in the story, including Wolf, is a
sidelight on Rip. Of "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow" Irving said: "The
story is a mere whimsical band to connect the descriptions of scenery,
customs, manners, etc." The emphasis, in other words, was put on the
setting. Of "Rip Van Winkle" might he not have said, "The descriptions
of scenery, customs, manners, etc. are but so many channels through
which the character of Rip finds outlet and expression"?]



Whoever has made a voyage up the Hudson must remember the Kaatskill
Mountains. They are a dismembered branch of the great Appalachian
family, and are seen away to the west of the river, swelling up to a
noble height, and lording it over the surrounding country. Every change
of season, every change of weather, indeed, every hour of the day,
produces some change in the magical hues and shapes of these mountains,
and they are regarded by all the good wives, far and near, as perfect
barometers. When the weather is fair and settled, they are clothed in
blue and purple, and print their bold outlines on the clear evening sky;
but sometimes when the rest of the landscape is cloudless they will
gather a hood of gray vapors about their summits, which, in the last
rays of the setting sun, will glow and light up like a crown of glory.

At the foot of these fairy mountains, the voyager may have descried the
light smoke curling up from a village, whose shingle-roofs gleam among
the trees, just where the blue tints of the upland melt away into the
fresh green of the nearer landscape. It is a little village of great
antiquity, having been founded by some of the Dutch colonists in the
early time of the province, just about the beginning of the government
of the good Peter Stuyvesant (may he rest in peace!), and there were
some of the houses of the original settlers standing within a few years,
built of small yellow bricks brought from Holland, having latticed
windows and gable fronts, surmounted with weathercocks.

In that same village, and in one of these very houses (which, to tell
the precise truth, was sadly time-worn and weather-beaten), there lived
many years since, while the country was yet a province of Great Britain,
a simple, good-natured fellow, of the name of Rip Van Winkle. He was a
descendant of the Van Winkles who figured so gallantly in the chivalrous
days of Peter Stuyvesant, and accompanied him to the siege of Fort
Christina. He inherited, however, but little of the martial character of
his ancestors. I have observed that he was a simple, good-natured man;
he was, moreover, a kind neighbor, and an obedient henpecked husband.
Indeed, to the latter circumstance might be owing that meekness of
spirit which gained him such universal popularity; for those men are
most apt to be obsequious and conciliating abroad, who are under the
discipline of shrews at home. Their tempers, doubtless, are rendered
pliant and malleable in the fiery furnace of domestic tribulation; and a
curtain lecture is worth all the sermons in the world for teaching the
virtues of patience and long-suffering. A termagant wife may, therefore,
in some respects be considered a tolerable blessing, and if so, Rip Van
Winkle was thrice blessed.

Certain it is, that he was a great favorite among all the good wives of
the village, who, as usual with the amiable sex, took his part in all
family squabbles; and never failed, whenever they talked those matters
over in their evening gossipings, to lay all the blame on Dame Van
Winkle. The children of the village, too, would shout with joy whenever
he approached. He assisted at their sports, made their playthings,
taught them to fly kites and shoot marbles, and told them long stories
of ghosts, witches, and Indians. Whenever he went dodging about the
village, he was surrounded by a troop of them hanging on his skirts,
clambering on his back, and playing a thousand tricks on him with
impunity; and not a dog would bark at him throughout the neighborhood.

The great error in Rip's composition was an insuperable aversion to all
kinds of profitable labor. It could not be from the want of assiduity or
perseverance; for he would sit on a wet rock, with a rod as long and
heavy as a Tartar's lance, and fish all day without a murmur, even
though he should not be encouraged by a single nibble. He would carry a
fowling-piece on his shoulder for hours together, trudging through woods
and swamps, and up hill and down dale, to shoot a few squirrels or wild
pigeons. He would never refuse to assist a neighbor, even in the
roughest toil, and was a foremost man at all country frolics for husking
Indian corn, or building stone-fences; the women of the village, too,
used to employ him to run their errands, and to do such little odd jobs
as their less obliging husbands would not do for them. In a word, Rip
was ready to attend to anybody's business but his own; but as to doing
family duty, and keeping his farm in order, he found it impossible.

In fact, he declared it was of no use to work on his farm; it was the
most pestilent little piece of ground in the whole country; everything
about it went wrong, and would go wrong, in spite of him. His fences
were continually falling to pieces; his cow would either go astray or
get among the cabbages; weeds were sure to grow quicker in his fields
than anywhere else; the rain always made a point of setting in just as
he had some out-door work to do; so that though his patrimonial estate
had dwindled away under his management, acre by acre, until there was
little more left than a mere patch of Indian corn and potatoes, yet it
was the worst-conditioned farm in the neighborhood.

His children, too, were as ragged and wild as if they belonged to
nobody. His son Rip, an urchin begotten in his own likeness, promised to
inherit the habits, with the old clothes of his father. He was generally
seen trooping like a colt at his mother's heels, equipped in a pair of
his father's cast-off galligaskins, which he had much ado to hold up
with one hand, as a fine lady does her train in bad weather.

Rip Van Winkle, however, was one of those happy mortals, of foolish,
well-oiled dispositions, who take the world easy, eat white bread or
brown, whichever can be got with least thought or trouble, and would
rather starve on a penny than work for a pound. If left to himself, he
would have whistled life away in perfect contentment; but his wife kept
continually dinning in his ears about his idleness, his carelessness,
and the ruin he was bringing on his family. Morning, noon, and night her
tongue was incessantly going, and everything he said or did was sure to
produce a torrent of household eloquence. Rip had but one way of
replying to all lectures of the kind, and that, by frequent use, had
grown into a habit. He shrugged his shoulders, shook his head, cast up
his eyes, but said nothing. This, however, always provoked a fresh
volley from his wife; so that he was fain to draw off his forces, and
take to the outside of the house--the only side which, in truth, belongs
to a henpecked husband.

Rip's sole domestic adherent was his dog Wolf, who was as much henpecked
as his master; for Dame Van Winkle regarded them as companions in
idleness, and even looked upon Wolf with an evil eye, as the cause of
his master's going so often astray. True it is, in all points of spirit
befitting an honorable dog, he was as courageous an animal as ever
scoured the woods--but what courage can withstand the ever-during and
all-besetting terrors of a woman's tongue? The moment Wolf entered the
house his crest fell, his tail drooped to the ground, or curled between
his legs, he sneaked about with a gallows air, casting many a sidelong
glance at Dame Van Winkle, and at the least flourish of a broomstick or
ladle he would fly to the door with yelping precipitation.

Times grew worse and worse with Rip Van Winkle as years of matrimony
rolled on; a tart temper never mellows with age, and a sharp tongue is
the only edged tool that grows keener with constant use. For a long
while he used to console himself, when driven from home, by frequenting
a kind of perpetual club of the sages, philosophers, and other idle
personages of the village, which held its sessions on a bench before a
small inn, designated by a rubicund portrait of His Majesty George the
Third. Here they used to sit in the shade through a long lazy summer's
day, talking listlessly over village gossip, or telling endless sleepy
stories about nothing. But it would have been worth any statesman's
money to have heard the profound discussions that sometimes took place,
when by chance an old newspaper fell into their hands from some passing
traveller. How solemnly they would listen to the contents, as drawled
out by Derrick Van Bummel, the schoolmaster, a dapper, learned little
man, who was not to be daunted by the most gigantic word in the
dictionary; and how sagely they would deliberate upon public events some
months after they had taken place.

The opinions of this junto were completely controlled by Nicholas
Vedder, a patriarch of the village, and landlord of the inn, at the door
of which he took his seat from morning till night, just moving
sufficiently to avoid the sun and keep in the shade of a large tree; so
that the neighbors could tell the hour by his movements as accurately as
by a sun-dial. It is true he was rarely heard to speak, but smoked his
pipe incessantly. His adherents, however (for every great man has his
adherents), perfectly understood him, and knew how to gather his
opinions. When anything that was read or related displeased him, he was
observed to smoke his pipe vehemently, and to send forth short, frequent
and angry puffs; but when pleased, he would inhale the smoke slowly and
tranquilly, and emit it in light and placid clouds; and sometimes,
taking the pipe from his mouth, and letting the fragrant vapor curl
about his nose, would gravely nod his head in token of perfect
approbation.

From even this stronghold the unlucky Rip was at length routed by his
termagant wife, who would suddenly break in upon the tranquillity of the
assemblage and call the members all to naught; nor was that august
personage, Nicholas Vedder himself, sacred from the daring tongue of
this terrible virago, who charged him outright with encouraging her
husband in habits of idleness.

Poor Rip was at last reduced almost to despair; and his only
alternative, to escape from the labor of the farm and clamor of his
wife, was to take gun in hand and stroll away into the woods. Here he
would sometimes seat himself at the foot of a tree, and share the
contents of his wallet with Wolf, with whom he sympathized as a
fellow-sufferer in persecution. "Poor Wolf," he would say, "thy mistress
leads thee a dog's life of it; but never mind, my lad, whilst I live
thou shalt never want a friend to stand by thee!" Wolf would wag his
tail, look wistfully in his master's face, and if dogs can feel pity, I
verily believe he reciprocated the sentiment with all his heart.

In a long ramble of the kind on a fine autumnal day, Rip had
unconsciously scrambled to one of the highest parts of the Kaatskill
Mountains. He was after his favorite sport of squirrel shooting, and the
still solitudes had echoed and re-echoed with the reports of his gun.
Panting and fatigued, he threw himself, late in the afternoon, on a
green knoll, covered with mountain herbage, that crowned the brow of a
precipice. From an opening between the trees he could overlook all the
lower country for many a mile of rich woodland. He saw at a distance the
lordly Hudson, far, far below him, moving on its silent but majestic
course, with the reflection of a purple cloud, or the sail of a lagging
bark, here and there sleeping on its glassy bosom, and at last losing
itself in the blue highlands.

On the other side he looked down into a deep mountain glen, wild,
lonely, and shagged, the bottom filled with fragments from the impending
cliffs, and scarcely lighted by the reflected rays of the setting sun.
For some time Rip lay musing on this scene; evening was gradually
advancing, the mountains began to throw their long blue shadows over the
valleys; he saw that it would be dark long before he could reach the
village, and he heaved a heavy sigh when he thought of encountering the
terrors of Dame Van Winkle.

As he was about to descend, he heard a voice from a distance, hallooing,
"Rip Van Winkle! Rip Van Winkle!" He looked round, but could see nothing
but a crow winging its solitary flight across the mountain. He thought
his fancy must have deceived him, and turned again to descend, when he
heard the same cry ring through the still evening air: "Rip Van Winkle!
Rip Van Winkle!"--at the same time Wolf bristled up his back, and giving
a low growl, skulked to his master's side, looking fearfully down into
the glen. Rip now felt a vague apprehension stealing over him; he looked
anxiously in the same direction, and perceived a strange figure slowly
toiling up the rocks, and bending under the weight of something he
carried on his back. He was surprised to see any human being in this
lonely and unfrequented place; but supposing it to be some one of the
neighborhood in need of his assistance, he hastened down to yield it.

On nearer approach he was still more surprised at the singularity of the
stranger's appearance. He was a short, square-built old fellow, with
thick bushy hair, and a grizzled beard. His dress was of the antique
Dutch fashion: a cloth jerkin strapped round the waist, several pairs of
breeches, the outer one of ample volume, decorated with rows of buttons
down the sides, and bunches at the knees. He bore on his shoulder a
stout keg, that seemed full of liquor, and made signs for Rip to
approach and assist him with the load. Though rather shy and distrustful
of this new acquaintance, Rip complied with his usual alacrity; and
mutually relieving one another, they clambered up a narrow gully,
apparently the dry bed of a mountain torrent. As they ascended, Rip
every now and then heard long rolling peals like distant thunder, that
seemed to issue out of a deep ravine, or rather cleft, between lofty
rocks, toward which their rugged path conducted. He paused for a moment,
but supposing it to be the muttering of one of those transient
thunder-showers which often take place in mountain heights, he
proceeded. Passing through the ravine, they came to a hollow, like a
small amphitheatre, surrounded by perpendicular precipices, over the
brinks of which impending trees shot their branches, so that you only
caught glimpses of the azure sky and the bright evening cloud. During
the whole time Rip and his companion had labored on in silence; for
though the former marvelled greatly what could be the object of carrying
a keg of liquor up this wild mountain, yet there was something strange
and incomprehensible about the unknown, that inspired awe and checked
familiarity.

On entering the amphitheatre, new objects of wonder presented
themselves. On a level spot in the center was a company of odd-looking
personages playing at ninepins. They were dressed in a quaint outlandish
fashion; some wore short doublets, others jerkins, with long knives in
their belts, and most of them had enormous breeches of similar style
with that of the guide's. Their visages, too, were peculiar; one had a
large beard, broad face, and small piggish eyes; the face of another
seemed to consist entirely of nose, and was surmounted by a white
sugar-loaf hat, set off with a little red cock's tail. They all had
beards, of various shapes and colors. There was one who seemed to be the
commander. He was a stout old gentleman, with a weather-beaten
countenance; he wore a laced doublet, broad belt and hanger,
high-crowned hat and feather, red stockings, and high-heeled shoes, with
roses in them. The whole group reminded Rip of the figures in an old
Flemish painting in the parlor of Dominie Van Shaick, the village
parson, which had been brought over from Holland at the time of the
settlement.

What seemed particularly odd to Rip was, that though these folks were
evidently amusing themselves, yet they maintained the gravest faces, the
most mysterious silence, and were, withal, the most melancholy party of
pleasure he had ever witnessed. Nothing interrupted the stillness of the
scene but the noise of the balls, which, whenever they were rolled,
echoed along the mountains like rumbling peals of thunder.

As Rip and his companion approached them, they suddenly desisted from
their play, and stared at him with such, fixed, statue-like gaze, and
such strange, uncouth, lack-lustre countenances, that his heart turned
within him, and his knees smote together. His companion now emptied the
contents of the keg into large flagons, and made signs to him to wait
upon the company. He obeyed with fear and trembling; they quaffed the
liquor in profound silence, and then returned to their game.

By degrees Rip's awe and apprehension subsided. He even ventured, when
no eye was fixed upon him, to taste the beverage, which he found had
much of the flavor of excellent Hollands. He was naturally a thirsty
soul, and was soon tempted to repeat the draught. One taste provoked
another; and he reiterated his visits to the flagon so often that at
length his senses were overpowered, his eyes swam in his head, his head
gradually declined, and he fell into a deep sleep.

On waking, he found himself on the green knoll whence he had first seen
the old man of the glen. He rubbed his eyes--it was a bright, sunny
morning. The birds were hopping and twittering among the bushes, and the
eagle was wheeling aloft, and breasting the pure mountain breeze.
"Surely," thought Rip, "I have not slept here all night." He recalled
the occurrences before he fell asleep. The strange man with a keg of
liquor--the mountain ravine--the wild retreat among the rocks--the
woe-begone party at ninepins--the flagon--"Oh! that flagon! that wicked
flagon!" thought Rip--"what excuse shall I make to Dame Van Winkle?"

He looked round for his gun, but in place of the clean, well-oiled
fowling-piece, he found an old firelock lying by him, the barrel
incrusted with rust, the lock falling off, and the stock worm-eaten. He
now suspected that the grave roisterers of the mountain had put a trick
upon him, and, having dosed him with liquor, had robbed him of his gun.
Wolf, too, had disappeared, but he might have strayed away after a
squirrel or partridge. He whistled after him, and shouted his name, but
all in vain; the echoes repeated his whistle and shout, but no dog was
to be seen.

He determined to revisit the scene of the last evening's gambol, and if
he met with any of the party, to demand his dog and gun. As he rose to
walk, he found himself stiff in the joints, and wanting in his usual
activity. "These mountain beds do not agree with me," thought Rip, "and
if this frolic should lay me up with a fit of the rheumatism, I shall
have a blessed time with Dame Van Winkle." With some difficulty he got
down into the glen; he found the gully up which he and his companion has
ascended the preceding evening; but to his astonishment a mountain
stream was now foaming down it, leaping from rock to rock, and filling
the glen with babbling murmurs. He, however, made shift to scramble up
its sides, working his toilsome way through thickets of birch,
sassafras, and witch-hazel, and sometimes tripped up or entangled by the
wild grapevines that twisted their coils or tendrils from tree to tree,
and spread a kind of network in his path.

At length he reached to where the ravine had opened through the cliffs
to the amphitheatre; but no traces of such opening remained. The rocks
presented a high, impenetrable wall, over which the torrent came
tumbling in a sheet of feathery foam, and fell into a broad, deep basin,
black from the shadows of the surrounding forest. Here, then, poor Rip
was brought to a stand. He again called and whistled after his dog; he
was only answered by the cawing of a flock of idle crows, sporting high
in air about a dry tree that overhung a sunny precipice; and who, secure
in their elevation, seemed to look down and scoff at the poor man's
perplexities. What was to be done? the morning was passing away, and Rip
felt famished for want of his breakfast. He grieved to give up his dog
and gun; he dreaded to meet his wife; but it would not do to starve
among the mountains. He shook his head, shouldered the rusty firelock,
and, with a heart full of trouble and anxiety, turned his steps
homeward.

As he approached the village he met a number of people, but none whom he
knew, which somewhat surprised him, for he had thought himself
acquainted with every one in the country round. Their dress, too, was of
a different fashion from that to which he was accustomed. They all
stared at him with equal marks of surprise, and whenever they cast their
eyes upon him, invariably stroked their chins. The constant recurrence
of this gesture induced Rip, involuntarily, to do the same, when, to his
astonishment, he found his beard had grown a foot long!

He had now entered the skirts of the village. A troop of strange
children ran at his heels, hooting after him, and pointing at his gray
beard. The dogs, too, not one of which he recognized for an old
acquaintance, barked at him as he passed. The very village was altered;
it was larger and more populous. There were rows of houses which he had
never seen before, and those which had been his familiar haunts had
disappeared. Strange names were over the doors--strange faces at the
windows--everything was strange. His mind now misgave him; he began to
doubt whether both he and the world around him were not bewitched.
Surely this was his native village, which he had left but the day
before. There stood the Kaatskill Mountains--there ran the silver Hudson
at a distance--there was every hill and dale precisely as it had always
been--Rip was sorely perplexed--"That flagon last night," thought he,
"has addled my poor head sadly!"

It was with some difficulty that he found the way to his own house,
which he approached with silent awe, expecting every moment to hear the
shrill voice of Dame Van Winkle. He found the house gone to decay--the
roof fallen in, the windows shattered, and the doors off the hinges. A
half-starved dog that looked like Wolf was skulking about it. Rip called
him by name, but the cur snarled, showed his teeth, and passed on. This
was an unkind cut indeed--"My very dog," sighed poor Rip, "has forgotten
me!"

He entered the house, which, to tell the truth, Dame Van Winkle had
always kept in neat order. It was empty, forlorn, and apparently
abandoned. This desolateness overcame all his connubial fears--he called
loudly for his wife and children--the lonely chambers rang for a moment
with his voice, and then again all was silence.

He now hurried forth, and hastened to his old resort, the village
inn--but it, too, was gone. A large, rickety wooden building stood in
its place, with great gaping windows, some of them broken and mended
with old hats and petticoats, and over the door was painted, "The Union
Hotel, by Jonathan Doolittle." Instead of the great tree that used to
shelter the quiet little Dutch inn of yore, there now was reared a tall
naked pole, with something on the top that looked like a red night-cap,
and from it was fluttering a flag, on which was a singular assemblage of
stars and stripes--all this was strange and incomprehensible. He
recognized on the sign, however, the ruby face of King George, under
which he had smoked so many a peaceful pipe; but even this was
singularly metamorphosed. The red coat was changed for one of blue and
buff, a sword was held in the hand instead of a sceptre, the head was
decorated with a cocked hat, and underneath was painted in large
characters, GENERAL WASHINGTON.

There was, as usual, a crowd of folk about the door, but none that Rip
recollected. The very character of the people seemed changed. There was
a busy, bustling, disputatious tone about it, instead of the accustomed
phlegm and drowsy tranquillity. He looked in vain for the sage Nicholas
Vedder, with his broad face, double chin, and fair long pipe, uttering
clouds of tobacco-smoke instead of idle speeches; or Van Bummel, the
schoolmaster, doling forth the contents of an ancient newspaper. In
place of these, a lean, bilious-looking fellow, with his pockets full of
hand-bills, was haranguing vehemently about rights of citizens
--elections--members of congress--liberty--Bunker's Hill--heroes
of seventy-six--and other words, which were a perfect Babylonish jargon
to the bewildered Van Winkle.

The appearance of Rip, with his long grizzled beard, his rusty
fowling-piece, his uncouth dress, and an army of women and children at
his heels, soon attracted the attention of the tavern-politicians. They
crowded round him, eying him from head to foot with great curiosity. The
orator bustled up to him, and, drawing him partly aside, inquired "on
which side he voted?" Rip stared in vacant stupidity. Another short but
busy little fellow pulled him by the arm, and, rising on tiptoe,
inquired in his ear, "Whether he was Federal or Democrat?" Rip was
equally at a loss to comprehend the question; when a knowing,
self-important old gentleman, in a sharp cocked hat, made his way
through the crowd, putting them to the right and left with his elbows as
he passed, and planting himself before Van Winkle, with one arm akimbo,
the other resting on his cane, his keen eyes and sharp hat penetrating,
as it were, into his very soul, demanded in an austere tone, "what
brought him to the election with a gun on his shoulder, and a mob at his
heels, and whether he meant to breed a riot in the village?"--"Alas!
gentlemen," cried Rip, somewhat dismayed, "I am a poor quiet man, a
native of the place, and a loyal subject of the king, God bless him!"

Here a general shout burst from the bystanders--"A tory! a tory! a spy!
a refugee! hustle him! away with him!" It was with great difficulty that
the self-important man in the cocked hat restored order; and, having
assumed a tenfold austerity of brow, demanded again of the unknown
culprit what he came there for, and whom he was seeking? The poor man
humbly assured him that he meant no harm, but merely came there in
search of some of his neighbors, who used to keep about the tavern.

"Well--who are they?--name them."

Rip bethought himself a moment, and inquired, "Where's Nicholas Vedder?"

There was a silence for a little while, when an old man replied, in a
thin, piping voice: "Nicholas Vedder! why, he is dead and gone these
eighteen years! There was a wooden tombstone in the churchyard that used
to tell all about him, but that's rotten and gone too."

"Where's Brom Dutcher?"

"Oh, he went off to the army in the beginning of the war; some say he
was killed at the storming of Stony Point--others say he was drowned in
a squall at the foot of Antony's Nose. I don't know--he never came back
again."

"Where's Van Bummel, the schoolmaster?"

"He went off to the wars too, was a great militia general, and is now in
Congress."

Rip's heart died away at hearing of these sad changes in his home and
friends, and finding himself thus alone in the world. Every answer
puzzled him too, by treating of such enormous lapses of time, and of
matters which he could not understand: war--Congress--Stony Point; he
had no courage to ask after any more friends, but cried out in despair,
"Does nobody here know Rip Van Winkle?"

"Oh, Rip Van Winkle!" exclaimed two or three.

"Oh, to be sure! that's Rip Van Winkle yonder, leaning against the
tree."

Rip looked, and beheld a precise counterpart of himself, as he went up
the mountain: apparently as lazy, and certainly as ragged. The poor
fellow was now completely confounded. He doubted his own identity, and
whether he was himself or another man. In the midst of his bewilderment,
the man in the cocked hat demanded who he was, and what was his name?

"God knows," exclaimed he, at his wit's end; "I'm not myself--I'm
somebody else--that's me yonder--no--that's somebody else got into my
shoes--I was myself last night, but I fell asleep on the mountain, and
they've changed my gun, and everything's changed, and I'm changed, and I
can't tell what's my name, or who I am!"

The bystanders began now to look at each other, nod, wink significantly,
and tap their fingers against their foreheads. There was a whisper,
also, about securing the gun, and keeping the old fellow from doing
mischief, at the very suggestion of which the self-important man in the
cocked hat retired with some precipitation. At this critical moment a
fresh, comely woman pressed through the throng to get a peep at the
gray-bearded man. She had a chubby child in her arms, which, frightened
at his looks, began to cry. "Hush, Rip," cried she, "hush, you little
fool; the old man won't hurt you." The name of the child, the air of the
mother, the tone of her voice, all awakened a train of recollections in
his mind. "What is your name, my good woman?" asked he.

"Judith Gardenier."

"And your father's name?"

"Ah, poor man, Rip Van Winkle was his name, but it's twenty years since
he went away from home with his gun, and never has been heard of
since,--his dog came home without him; but whether he shot himself or
was carried away by the Indians, nobody can tell. I was then but a
little girl."

Rip had but one question more to ask; and he put it with a faltering
voice:--"Where's your mother?"

"Oh, she too had died but a short time since; she broke a blood-vessel
in a fit of passion at a New England peddler."

There was a drop of comfort, at least, in this intelligence. The honest
man could contain himself no longer. He caught his daughter and her
child in his arms. "I am your father!" cried he--"Young Rip Van Winkle
once--old Rip Van Winkle now! Does nobody know poor Rip Van Winkle?"

All stood amazed, until an old woman, tottering out from among the
crowd, put her hand to her brow, and peering under it in his face for a
moment, exclaimed, "Sure enough it is Rip Van Winkle--it is himself!
Welcome home again, old neighbor--Why, where have you been these twenty
long years?"

Rip's story was soon told, for the whole twenty years had been to him
but as one night. The neighbors stared when they heard it; some were
seen to wink at each other, and put their tongues in their cheeks; and
the self-important man in the cocked hat, who, when the alarm was over,
had returned to the field, screwed down the corners of his mouth, and
shook his head--upon which there was a general shaking of the head
throughout the assemblage.

It was determined, however, to take the opinion of old Peter Vanderdonk,
who was seen slowly advancing up the road. He was a descendant of the
historian of that name, who wrote one of the earliest accounts of the
province. Peter was the most ancient inhabitant of the village, and well
versed in all the wonderful events and traditions of the neighborhood.
He recollected Rip at once, and corroborated his story in the most
satisfactory manner. He assured the company that it was a fact, handed
down from his ancestor the historian, that the Kaatskill Mountains had
always been haunted by strange beings. That it was affirmed that the
great Hendrick Hudson, the first discoverer of the river and country,
kept a kind of vigil there every twenty years, with his crew of the
Half-moon; being permitted in this way to revisit the scenes of his
enterprise, and keep a guardian eye upon the river and the great city
called by his name. That his father had once seen them in their old
Dutch dresses playing at ninepins in a hollow of the mountain; and that
he himself had heard, one summer afternoon, the sound of their balls
like distant peals of thunder.

To make a long story short, the company broke up and returned to the
more important concerns of the election. Rip's daughter took him home to
live with her; she had a snug well-furnished house, and a stout cheery
farmer for a husband, whom Rip recollected for one of the urchins that
used to climb upon his back. As to Rip's son and heir, who was the ditto
of himself, seen leaning against the tree, he was employed to work on
the farm; but evinced an hereditary disposition to attend to anything
else but his business.

Rip now resumed his old walks and habits; he soon found many of his
former cronies, though all rather the worse for the wear and tear of
time; and preferred making friends among the rising generation, with
whom he soon grew into great favor.

Having nothing to do at home, and being arrived at that happy age when a
man can be idle with impunity, he took his place once more on the bench
at the inn door, and was reverenced as one of the patriarchs of the
village, and a chronicle of the old times "before the war." It was some
time before he could get into the regular track of gossip, or could be
made to comprehend the strange events that had taken place during his
torpor. How that there had been a revolutionary war--that the country
had thrown off the yoke of old England--and that, instead of being a
subject of his Majesty George the Third, he was now a free citizen of
the United States. Rip, in fact, was no politician; the changes of
states and empires made but little impression on him; but there was one
species of despotism under which he had long groaned, and that
was--petticoat government. Happily that was at an end; he had got his
neck out of the yoke of matrimony, and could go in and out whenever he
pleased, without dreading the tyranny of Dame Van Winkle. Whenever her
name was mentioned, however, he shook his head, shrugged his shoulders,
and cast up his eyes, which might pass either for an expression of
resignation to his fate, or joy at his deliverance.

He used to tell his story to every stranger that arrived at Mr.
Doolittle's hotel. He was observed, at first, to vary on some points
every time he told it, which was, doubtless, owing to his having so
recently awaked. It at last settled down precisely to the tale I have
related, and not a man, woman, or child in the neighborhood but knew it
by heart. Some always pretended to doubt the reality of it, and insisted
that Rip had been out of his head, and that this was one point on which
he always remained flighty. The old Dutch inhabitants, however, almost
universally gave it full credit. Even to this day they never hear a
thunder-storm of a summer afternoon about the Kaatskill, but they say
Hendrick Hudson and his crew are at their game of ninepins; and it is a
common wish of all henpecked husbands in the neighborhood, when life
hangs heavy on their hands, that they might have a quieting draught out
of Rip Van Winkle's flagon.




IV. THE GOLD-BUG (1843)

BY EDGAR ALLAN POE (1809-1849)


[_Setting_. Sullivan's Island is at the entrance of Charleston harbor,
just east of Charleston, South Carolina. It is the site of Fort
Moultrie, where Poe served as a private soldier in Battery H of the
First Artillery, United States Army, from November, 1827, to November,
1828. The atmosphere of the place in Poe's time is well preserved, but
no such beetle as the gold-bug has been discovered. Poe may have found a
hint for his story in the wreck of the old brigantine _Cid Campeador_
off the coast of South Carolina in 1745, the affidavits of the burying
of the treasure being still preserved in the Probate Court Records of
Charleston.

_Plot_. "The Gold-Bug" is recognized as one of the world's greatest
short stories and marks a distinct advance in short-story structure. The
plot is divided into two parts, which we may call mystery and solution,
or complication and explication, or rise and fall. The second part
begins with the short paragraph on page 91, beginning "When, at length,
we had concluded our examination," etc. Notice how skillfully the
interest is preserved and even heightened as the plot passes from the
romantic action of part one to the subtle exposition of part two. These
two parts may be said to represent the two sides of Poe's genius, the
imaginative or poetical, and the intellectual or scientific. The
treasure-trove is the symbol of the first, the cryptogram of the second.
Stories had been written about buried treasures and about cryptograms
before 1843, but the two interests had never before been combined. Poe's
example, however, has borne abundant fruit.

_Characters_. Poe's strength did not lie in the creation of character.
He is so intent on the development of the windings and unwindings of his
story that the characters become mere puppets, originated and controlled
by the needs of the plot. Jupiter deserves mention as one of the
earliest attempts made by an American short-story writer to portray
negro character. But Jupiter has been so far surpassed in breadth and
reality by Joel Chandler Harris, Thomas Nelson Page, and a score of
others as to be almost negligible in the count. In defense of Jupiter's
barbarous lingo, which has been often criticized, it should be
remembered that Poe intended him as a representative of the Gullah (or
Gulla) dialect. "It is the negro dialect," says Joel Chandler Harris,
"in its most primitive state--the 'Gullah' talk of some of the negroes
on the Sea Islands being merely a confused and untranslatable mixture of
English and African words."

William Legrand, though not a great or notable character in any way, is
admirably fitted to do what is required of him in the story. Like Poe,
he was solitary, proud, quick-tempered, and "subject to perverse moods
of alternate enthusiasm and melancholy." He had also Poe's passion for
puzzles. Jupiter is hardly more than an awkward tool fashioned to
display Legrand's analytic and directive genius; and the other character
in the story, like Dr. Watson in Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes stories,
is introduced merely to ask such questions as must be answered if the
reader is to follow intelligently the unfolding of the plot. They are
agents rather than characters.]



What ho! what ho! this fellow is dancing mad!
He hath been bitten by the Tarantula.
   "All in the Wrong"


Many years ago, I contracted an intimacy with a Mr. William Legrand. He
was of an ancient Huguenot family, and had once been wealthy; but a
series of misfortunes had reduced him to want. To avoid the
mortification consequent upon his disasters, he left New Orleans, the
city of his forefathers, and took up his residence at Sullivan's
Island, near Charleston, South Carolina.

This island is a very singular one. It consists of little else than the
sea sand, and is about three miles long. Its breadth at no point
exceeds a quarter of a mile. It is separated from the mainland by a
scarcely perceptible creek, oozing its way through a wilderness of
reeds and slime, a favorite resort of the marsh-hen. The vegetation, as
might be supposed, is scant, or at least dwarfish. No trees of any
magnitude are to be seen. Near the western extremity, where Fort
Moultrie stands, and where are some miserable frame buildings, tenanted
during summer by the fugitives from Charleston dust and fever, may be
found, indeed, the bristly palmetto; but the whole island, with the
exception of this western point, and a line of hard white beach on the
seacoast, is covered with a dense undergrowth of the sweet myrtle, so
much prized by the horticulturists of England. The shrub here often
attains the height of fifteen or twenty feet, and forms an almost
impenetrable coppice, burdening the air with its fragrance.

In the utmost recesses of this coppice, not far from the eastern or
more remote end of the island, Legrand had built himself a small hut,
which he occupied when I first, by mere accident, made his
acquaintance. This soon ripened into friendship--for there was much in
the recluse to excite interest and esteem. I found him well educated,
with unusual powers of mind, but infected with misanthropy, and subject
to perverse moods of alternate enthusiasm and melancholy. He had with
him many books, but rarely employed them. His chief amusements were
gunning and fishing, or sauntering along the beach and through the
myrtles in quest of shells or entomological specimens;--his collection
of the latter might have been envied by a Swammerdamm. In these
excursions he was usually accompanied by an old negro, called Jupiter,
who had been manumitted before the reverses of the family, but who
could be induced, neither by threats nor by promises, to abandon what
he considered his right of attendance upon the footsteps of his young
"Massa Will." It is not improbable that the relatives of Legrand,
conceiving him to be somewhat unsettled in intellect, had contrived to
instil this obstinacy into Jupiter, with a view to the supervision and
guardianship of the wanderer.

The winters in the latitude of Sullivan's Island are seldom very
severe, and in the fall of the year it is a rare event indeed when a
fire is considered necessary. About the middle of October, 18--, there
occurred, however, a day of remarkable chilliness. Just before sunset I
scrambled my way through the evergreens to the hut of my friend, whom I
had not visited for several weeks--my residence being at that time in
Charleston, a distance of nine miles from the island, while the
facilities of passage and repassage were very far behind those of the
present day. Upon reaching the hut I rapped, as was my custom, and,
getting no reply, sought for the key where I knew it was secreted,
unlocked the door, and went in. A fine fire was blazing upon the
hearth. It was a novelty, and by no means an ungrateful one. I threw
off an overcoat, took an armchair by the crackling logs, and awaited
patiently the arrival of my hosts.

Soon after dark they arrived, and gave me a most cordial welcome.
Jupiter, grinning from ear to ear, bustled about to prepare some
marsh-hens for supper. Legrand was in one of his fits--how else shall I
term them?--of enthusiasm. He had found an unknown bivalve, forming a
new genus, and, more than this, he had hunted down and secured, with
Jupiter's assistance, a _scarabaeus_ which he believed to be totally
new, but in respect to which he wished to have my opinion on the
morrow.

"And why not to-night?" I asked, rubbing my hands over the blaze, and
wishing the whole tribe of _scarabaei_ at the devil.

"Ah, if I had only known you were here!" said Legrand, "but it's so
long since I saw you; and how could I foresee that you would pay me a
visit this very night of all others? As I was coming home I met
Lieutenant G----, from the fort, and, very foolishly, I lent him the
bug; so it will be impossible for you to see it until the morning. Stay
here to-night, and I will send Jup down for it at sunrise. It is the
loveliest thing in creation!"

"What?--sunrise?"

"Nonsense! no!--the bug. It is of a brilliant gold color--about the
size of a large hickory-nut--with two jet-black spots near one
extremity of the back, and another, somewhat longer, at the other. The
_antennae_ are--"

"Dey aint _no_ tin in him, Massa Will, I keep a tellin on you," here
interrupted Jupiter; "de bug is a goole-bug, solid, ebery bit of him,
inside and all, sep him wing--neber feel half so hebby a bug in my
life."

"Well, suppose it is, Jup," replied Legrand, somewhat more earnestly,
it seemed to me, than the case demanded, "is that any reason for your
letting the birds burn? The color"--here he turned to me--"is really
almost enough to warrant Jupiter's idea. You never saw a more brilliant
metallic lustre than the scales emit--but of this you cannot judge till
to-morrow. In the meantime I can give you some idea of the shape."
Saying this, he seated himself at a small table, on which were a pen
and ink, but no paper. He looked for some in a drawer, but found none.

"Never mind," said he at length, "this will answer"; and he drew from
his waistcoat pocket a scrap of what I took to be very dirty foolscap,
and made upon it a rough drawing with the pen. While he did this, I
retained my seat by the fire, for I was still chilly. When the design
was complete, he handed it to me without rising. As I received it, a
low growl was heard, succeeded by a scratching at the door. Jupiter
opened it, and a large Newfoundland, belonging to Legrand, rushed in,
leaped upon my shoulders, and loaded me with caresses; for I had shown
him much attention during previous visits. When his gambols were over,
I looked at the paper, and, to speak the truth, found myself not a
little puzzled at what my friend had depicted.

"Well!" I said, after contemplating it for some minutes, "this _is_ a
strange _scarabaeus_, I must confess; new to me; never saw anything like
it before--unless it was a skull, or a death's-head, which it more
nearly resembles than anything else that has come under _my_
observation."

"A death's-head!" echoed Legrand--"oh--yes--well, it has something of
that appearance upon paper, no doubt. The two upper black spots look
like eyes, eh? and the longer one at the bottom like a mouth--and then
the shape of the whole is oval."

"Perhaps so," said I; "but, Legrand, I fear you are no artist. I must
wait until I see the beetle itself, if I am to form any idea of its
personal appearance."

"Well, I don't know," said he, a little nettled, "I draw
tolerably--_should_ do it at least--have had good masters, and flatter
myself that I am not quite a blockhead."

"But, my dear fellow, you are joking then," said I; "this is a very
passable _skull_,--indeed, I may say that it is a very _excellent_
skull, according to the vulgar notions about such specimens of
physiology--and your _scarabaeus_ must be the queerest _scarabaeus_ in
the world if it resembles it. Why, we may get up a very thrilling bit
of superstition upon this hint. I presume you will call the bug
_scarabaeus caput hominis_[*] or something of that kind--there are many
similar titles in the Natural Histories. But where are the _antennae_
you spoke of?"

[* _Scarabaeus caput hominis_, "death's-head beetle."]

"The _antennae_!" said Legrand, who seemed to be getting unaccountably
warm upon the subject; "I am sure you must see the _antennae_. I made
them as distinct as they are in the original insect, and I presume that
is sufficient."

"Well, well," I said, "perhaps you have--still I don't see them"; and I
handed him the paper without additional remark, not wishing to ruffle
his temper; but I was much surprised at the turn affairs had taken; his
ill humor puzzled me--and as for the drawing of the beetle, there were
positively _no antennae_, visible, and the whole _did_ bear a very close
resemblance to the ordinary cuts of a death's-head.

He received the paper very peevishly, and was about to crumple it,
apparently to throw it in the fire, when a casual glance at the design
seemed suddenly to rivet his attention. In an instant his face grew
violently red--in another as excessively pale. For some minutes he
continued to scrutinize the drawing minutely where he sat. At length he
arose, took a candle from the table, and proceeded to seat himself upon
a sea-chest in the farthest corner of the room. Here again he made an
anxious examination of the paper; turning it in all directions. He said
nothing, however, and his conduct greatly astonished me; yet I thought
it prudent not to exacerbate the growing moodiness of his temper by any
comment. Presently he took from his coat pocket a wallet, placed the
paper carefully in it, and deposited both in a writing-desk, which he
locked. He now grew more composed in his demeanor; but his original air
of enthusiasm had quite disappeared. Yet he seemed not so much sulky as
abstracted. As the evening wore away he became more and more absorbed
in revery, from which no sallies of mine could arouse him. It had been
my intention to pass the night at the hut, as I had frequently done
before, but, seeing my host in this mood, I deemed it proper to take
leave. He did not press me to remain, but, as I departed, he shook my
hand with even more than his usual cordiality.

It was about a month after this (and during the interval I had seen
nothing of Legrand) when I received a visit, at Charleston, from his
man, Jupiter. I had never seen the good old negro look so dispirited,
and I feared that some serious disaster had befallen my friend.

"Well, Jup," said I, "what is the matter now?--how is your master?"

"Why, to speak de troof, massa, him not so berry well as mought be."

"Not well! I am truly sorry to hear it. What does he complain of?"

"Dar! dat's it!--him neber plain of notin--but him berry sick for all
dat."

"_Very_ sick, Jupiter!--why didn't you say so at once? Is he confined
to bed?"

"No, dat he aint!--he aint find nowhar--dat's just whar de shoe
pinch--my mind is got to be berry hebby bout poor Massa Will."

"Jupiter, I should like to understand what it is you are talki