"One day, when this little girl was walking in the flower garden, she heard the gardener talking to his wife through the iron fence. The woman's voice was so pleasant and her laugh so cheerful that the little girl ran to the fence and peeped through to see who it was. The gardener's wife saw her, and at once began to pet her and make much of her. The little girl wanted the woman to come into the garden, and seemed to be so much in earnest about it that the woman promised she would come and be the child's nurse some day.

"No sooner had the gardener's wife gone about her business than the little girl ran and told her mother that she must have a nurse. At first her mother paid little attention to her, thinking that it was the passing whim of a child, but the little girl insisted, until finally her mother said:—

"'Who shall be your nurse? You know, my dear, that you can't have everybody and anybody?'

"'Ask the gardener,' the little girl replied. 'He knows.'

"'And how does he know?' the mother asked.

"'I saw him talking with her,' the little girl replied.

"So, after a time, the gardener was called, and then it was found that his wife was the person the little girl had selected to be her nurse. The father and mother hesitated for some time before they would consent to send for the woman, but finally she came, and they were so much struck by her pleasant manners and cheerful disposition that they were quite willing to employ her.

"For a long time after that the little girl and her nurse were never separated except when the nurse would go home to see her husband and her son, who was a handsome boy about fourteen years old. The little girl used to grieve so when her nurse left her that on one occasion, when the woman was going home for only an hour or so, she carried the child with her. There the little girl saw the handsome son of her nurse, and they were both very much pleased with each other. In the little time she stayed, the boy showed her a hundred new games, and told her a great many stories she had never heard before."

"How old was the little girl?" Mr. Thimblefinger inquired.

"Between seven and eight," replied Mrs. Meadows "Just old enough to be cute. Well, in the little time they were together the boy and girl grew to be very fond of each other. The boy thought she was the daintiest and prettiest creature he had ever seen, and the little girl thought the boy was all that a boy should be.

"Of course, when the little girl went back home again she talked of nothing else but the boy who had proved to be such a wonderful playmate. This set the child's mother to thinking, and she made up her mind that it wouldn't do for these children to see so much of each other. So she sent for the nurse and told her very kindly that she didn't think it would be prudent to carry the little girl to her house any more.

"The nurse agreed with the little girl's mother, but somehow she didn't relish the idea that her brave and handsome son wasn't good enough to play with anybody's daughter. She thought the matter over for several days, and finally decided that it would be better to give up her place as nurse. She was very fond of the little girl, but she was still fonder of her boy. So she ceased to be the child's nurse, and went to her own home.

"The little girl grieved day and night for her kind nurse. Nothing would console her. Her mother bought her a little pony, but she wouldn't ride it; wonderful dolls, but she wouldn't look at them; the finest cakes and candies, but she wouldn't eat them; the most beautiful dresses, but she wouldn't wear them. Matters went on in this way for I don't know how long, until, finally, one day the little girl's mother concluded to send for the nurse.

"Now it happened that on that particular day the little girl had made up her mind to go after her nurse. One day in each week, the gardener would open the big gates of the park in order to trundle away the trash and weeds that he had raked up. The little girl watched him open the gate, and then, when the gardener went for his wheelbarrow, she slipped out at the gate and went running across the fields.

"For a time the little girl was perfectly happy. She gave herself up to the pleasure of being alone, of being able to do as she chose, with no one to tell her not to do this or do that, or to say 'come here,' or 'go yonder.' So she went running across the fields, looking at the birds, and trying to catch butterflies, and singing to herself some of the beautiful songs that her nurse's son had taught her.

"Now it happened that when she ran out of the garden gate, in her haste to keep out of sight of the gardener, she went away from her nurse's house instead of going towards it. She had been kept so closely at home that she had no idea of the great world beyond the garden gate. She thought that all she had to do to get to her dear nurse's house was to go out at the gate and keep on going until she came to the place where there were two big trees, with a swing between them, and a little white house on the other side.

"So she went on her way, singing and skipping. When she grew tired she sat down to rest. When she grew thirsty she drank of the clear, cold water that ran through the fields. When she became hungry, she ate the berries that grew along the way. She was perfectly satisfied that she would soon come to her nurse's house. But the sun doesn't stop for grown people, much less for children, and the little girl soon found that night was coming on. The only thought she had was that her nurse's house had been moved farther away, and that by going straight ahead she would find it after a while.

"So she trudged along. When the sun was nearly down she saw an old man sitting in the shade of a tree. The little girl went straight towards him, made him a curtsey, as she had been taught to do, and said:—

"'Please, sir, where is my nurse's house?'

"The old man raised his head and glanced all around. 'I see no nurse's house,' he replied.

"Then, after a little while the old man said: 'My dear, give me a drink of water.'



"The little girl looked all around. 'I see no water,' she replied.

"'Well said, well said!' exclaimed the old man. 'You are very bright and very beautiful, therefore I'll give you some advice. There is a spring by yonder tree, but you must not drink the water. There is a pomegranate-tree growing by the spring, but you must eat none of the fruit.'

"Having said this, the old man slung his wallet over his back and went on his way. The little girl went to the spring and looked at the water. Then she looked at the beautiful red fruit growing on the pomegranate-tree. She was very thirsty, very hungry, and very tired. She thought to herself that the old man was very mean and stingy. 'He's afraid I'll muddy the water,' she said, 'and he wants all the pomegranates for himself.'

"Then she drank from the spring, and the water was very sweet and cool. She ate the fruit of the pomegranate-tree, and it was delicious. Then being tired, she stretched herself out on the grass and was soon sound asleep.

"Now it so happened," continued Mrs. Meadows, pretending to examine the stitches in Sweetest Susan's frock "that the spring and the pomegranate-tree were under a spell. They belonged to an old Conjurer who lived in a cave close by. In this cave he had a large bowl of water on a shelf, and near it, growing in a box, was a little pomegranate-bush. Whenever anybody drank from the spring, the water in the bowl would shake and tremble and become muddy; and whenever a pomegranate was pulled from the big bush by the spring, the little bush in the Conjurer's cave would bend and wave its limbs as if a gale were blowing.

"All this occurred when the little girl drank from the spring and pulled and ate one of the pomegranates; and by the time she was sound asleep, the Conjurer had come out of his cave and discovered her. He waited a little while, and then took the child and carried her to his cave, and it was many a long day before anybody, except the Conjurer himself, saw her again."

At this point Mrs. Meadows paused.



XVIII.

MRS. MEADOWS RESUMES HER STORY.

The pause was occasioned by Mr. Rabbit. He had fallen into a doze while Mrs. Meadows was telling her story, and just as she came to the point where the Conjurer had lifted the little girl in his arms and carried her into his cave, Mr. Rabbit had dreamed that he was falling. His chair was tilted back a little, and he made such a mighty effort to keep himself from falling in his dream that he lost his balance and went over sure enough.

"I declare!" he exclaimed. "I ought to be ashamed of myself to be falling heels over head this way without any reason in the world, and right before company too. Wasn't there something in your story about falling?"

"Not a word!" replied Mrs. Meadows firmly.

"Well, well, well!" exclaimed Mr. Rabbit. "I'll try and keep my eyes open hereafter."

The children tried their best to keep from laughing at Mr. Rabbit's predicament, but Drusilla was finally compelled to give way to her desire, and then they all joined in, even Mr. Rabbit smiling somewhat grimly.

"Let me see," said Mrs. Meadows, after a while; "the last we heard of the little girl I was telling you about, the Conjurer had carried her into his cave?"

"Yes," answered Sweetest Susan; "and now I want to know what became of her."

"Well," said Mrs. Meadows, "the shortest way to tell you that is the best way. It happened that on the very day the little girl ran away to visit her nurse, the nurse had concluded to visit the little girl. So she put on her best things and went to the little girl's home. When the woman came to the garden she saw the gate open, and presently her husband, the gardener, came out trundling a load of weeds and trash in his wheelbarrow. She asked about the little girl.

"'She was playing under the trees yonder awhile ago,' said the man. 'I haven't seen her since.'

"The woman went into the garden and searched among the trees and arbors, but no little girl could she find.

"'Having come so far,' she said to herself, 'I'll not go back without seeing the precious little creature.' So she went towards the house, searching for the child. She inquired of every servant she met where the little girl was, and finally went into the house searching for her. At last she came to the room where sat her former mistress. But the child was not there.

"In a very short while there was a tremendous uproar in the place. The maid servants and the men servants went running about through the house, through the yard, and through the garden, calling the little girl. They hunted in every hole and corner, and in every nook and cranny, but the child was not to be found.

"The kind-hearted nurse wept almost as bitterly as the mother. 'Oh, if I had been here,' she cried, 'this would never have happened.'

"The little girl's father came in just in time to hear this, and he immediately suspected that the nurse had stolen his daughter and would pretend to find her again in the hope of securing a reward. He said nothing of his suspicions, but he determined to have the nurse closely watched.

"He was so firmly convinced that his suspicion was correct that he treated his daughter's disappearance somewhat lightly, and this helped to console the mother. When it became certain that the little girl was not to be found in the house or on the place, her father called one of his trusty clerks (for he was a rich and powerful merchant), and told him to disguise himself as a peddler, go to the nurse's house, and there discover, if possible, where the nurse had bestowed the child.

"The clerk did as he was directed, but when he arrived at the nurse's house, disguised as a peddler, he was surprised to find as much grief under that humble roof as there was at his master's house. He knocked at the door and inquired the cause of the trouble, hoping to discover that the display of grief was a mere sham. But he soon saw it was genuine. Both the woman and her handsome son were weeping bitterly over the disappearance of the little girl.

"'May I get a bite to eat?' asked the peddler.

"'That you may!' exclaimed the woman, 'for we shall need nothing ourselves, until we hear some news of that precious child.' Then she told the peddler about the strange disappearance of the little girl she used to nurse, and the peddler, in order to carry out his purpose, asked a great many questions. When he was told that the parents of the little girl were very rich he laughed, and said that if they had plenty of money they could get along very well without a little girl, but this made the woman and her son so angry that they were on the point of showing the peddler the door. They were ready to dismiss him with many hard words, when they heard some one calling.

"The son went into the yard, and found that an old man had fallen not far from their gate and was unable to rise. The woman went to help her son bring the old man in, and while they were gone the peddler took his leave without so much as saying good-by.

"With a good deal of trouble the old man was brought into the house, and made comfortable, but no sooner had he been placed upon the woman's bed than he leaped to his feet and stood on the floor, laughing.

"'I have fallen at a dozen doors to-day,' he cried, 'and this is the first that has been opened to me.'

"'Well,' replied the woman, 'if we had known you were playing pranks on us I don't think this door would have opened to you. We are having too much trouble ourselves to pester with other people's troubles.'

"Then she went on to tell of the disappearance of the little girl she used to nurse. The old man tried to get in a word of consolation, now and then, but the woman talked too fast for that. But presently she had told about all she had to tell.

"'See how it turns out!' cried the old man. 'How can it be accident that brings to your door the only person in the world that can give you any tidings of the little girl? I saw a child to-day some miles from here who asked me to show her her nurse's house.'

"'Bless her dear little heart!' exclaimed the woman.

"'But she was in great danger,' said the old man. 'She was just about to enter the domain of Rimrak.'

"'Ah, why didn't you bring her away with you?' cried the woman.

"'It is not permitted,' replied the old man. 'I did what I could. I warned her not to drink of the waters of the spring nor to eat of the pomegranate-seed. I could do no more.'

"'Oh, what will become of the dear child?' exclaimed the woman, wringing her hands.

"'If she drinks of the waters of the spring,' responded the old man, 'or eats of the pomegranate-seed, she will fall into a deep sleep. Then will come Rimrak, the Conjurer, and convey her to his cave, and there she will be held captive until she forgets she is a captive, or until she has been rescued by some bold youth who loves her well enough to remember the color of her eyes.'

"'I remember! I remember!' cried the woman's handsome son.

"'Be not too sure,' replied the old man. 'Sit down and think it over.'

"'No need for that,' said the boy. 'Her eyes once seen can never be forgotten.'

"'Oho!' exclaimed the old man. 'Then perhaps you can tell me the color of the little girl's eyes?'

"'Certainly,' said the boy. 'They are brown when she lifts them to your face and dark when she looks away from you.'

"The old man nodded his head with a greater display of good humor than he had yet shown.

"'Ah, you think so,' said the old man, warningly; 'you think you know, but be not too sure.'

"'Why, I can see her now!' exclaimed the boy.

"'Where?' cried his mother; 'oh, where?'

"The boy fell back in his seat and covered his face with his hands.

"'He was speaking of his memory,' said the old man. 'If he can trust it, well and good.'

"'You should have brought the child home with you,' said the matter-of-fact woman.

"'It was not in my power,' replied the old man. 'She had gone too far. She had already entered the domain of Rimrak, the Conjurer. All that I could do I did. I warned her not to drink of the waters of the spring. I warned her not to eat of the seed of the pomegranate. But now that I am here, let us see what can be done.'

"He went to his wallet, which he had placed on the table, opened it and took from it three knives. One was a clasp-knife with a long, slim blade, the next was a common case-knife, and the third was a big butcher's-knife. The case-knife had once had a horn or wooden handle, but this had dropped off, and the iron that held the knife in place had been run into a corncob. The old man took these knives from his wallet, one by one, and placed them on the table.

"'Now listen to me,' he said to the boy. 'All will go well with you if you are bold, and if you really remember the color of the little girl's eyes. Here are your arms. This,' taking up the clasp-knife, 'is Keen-Point. This,' taking up the case-knife, 'is Cob-Handle. And this is Butch. Remember their names,—Keen-Point, Cob-Handle, and Butch. Keen-Point is to show you the way, Cob-Handle is to warn you of danger, and Butch is to protect you. But they will all fail you—they will all go wrong—if you do not remember the color of the little girl's eyes.'

"The boy took Keen-Point, Cob-Handle, and Butch, and stowed them away in a wallet, in which his mother placed a supply of food. Then he set out on his journey, with a light heart. He was not afraid, for he knew that he loved the little girl well enough to remember the color of her eyes. He went on his way till he came to the open fields where no one lived. He had been there many a time before, but now it seemed to him that he had never seen so many paths and by-ways. They led in all directions and crossed each other almost at every turn.

"He stopped and looked all around, and then he took Keen-Point from his wallet, and said:—

"'Keen-Point can, Keen-Point may, Point keen and true, and show me the way.'

"As soon as he said this, the knife tumbled from his hand and fell to the ground, the end of the keen blade pointing towards one of the many footpaths. The boy picked it up, and it tumbled from his hand again, pointing in the same direction. He picked it up the second time, and again the knife fell from his hand and pointed to the footpath. For the third time he lifted the knife from the ground, and as it fell no more, he placed it in his wallet, and went on his way.

"Thus he continued for many hours. When he was in doubt about the way, Keen-Point would show him. When he grew hungry, he ate the food his mother had placed in his wallet. It was late in the day when he started, and before he came to the spring and the pomegranate-tree, the sun went down and night came on. The boy stopped under a wide-spreading tree, said his prayers, placed his wallet under his head for a pillow, and went to sleep.

"Bright and early the next morning he was up and going. Whenever he had any doubt about the way, Keen-Point would show him, and before the sun was up very high, he came in sight of the pomegranate-tree, with its red and golden fruit, and he knew the spring was close by.

"As he went on he grew thirstier, and thirstier, and when he came to where the cool, clear waters of the spring were bubbling from the ground with a sort of gurgling sound, his throat and mouth seemed to be as dry as paper. More than that, when he came to the spring, a traveler was sitting on one of the stones that lay around, drinking the water from a silver cup and peeling the rind from a pomegranate with a silver knife. The traveler had a very pleasant face and manner, and he spoke to the boy in the kindest way.

"'If you want some water,' he said, 'you may drink from my silver cup. If you are hungry, you may peel a pomegranate with my silver knife.'

"The boy thanked the traveler and said that he would eat and drink later in the day. He thought to himself that a man who could drink from a silver cup and eat with a silver knife ought to be able to travel in a carriage or on horseback, but there was no horse nor carriage in sight.

"'Well,' said the traveler, 'if you will neither eat nor drink, you can at least rest yourself.'

"So the boy seated himself on one of the big rocks close by the spring, and the traveler began to ask him all sorts of questions. What was his name, and where did he come from, and where was he going."

"What was his name?" asked Sweetest Susan suddenly.

"Well, I declare!" exclaimed Mrs. Meadows, "haven't I told you his name?"

"If you did, we didn't hear you," said Buster John.

Mrs. Meadows raised her hands above her head and let them fall helplessly in her lap. "I told you I didn't know how to tell stories!" she cried. "You had fair warning. Well, well, well! And I never even told you his name!" She paused and stared at the children as if she wanted them to pity her weakness. "To think that I should forget to call his name! Everybody knew it in my day and time, and they knew about his wonderful adventures.

"His name was Valentine, because he was born on St. Valentine's Day, and the little girl's name was Geraldine.

"Well, the traveler asked Valentine all sorts of questions, and tried hard to persuade him to drink some of the water and eat the pomegranate-seed.

"'I have heard,' said the traveler, 'that all this country around here is ruled by a cruel Conjurer, and that he has power over all except those who may chance to find this spring and this pomegranate-tree in passing, and drink of the water and eat of the fruit.'

"But Valentine shook his head. He said he would rather have milk than water any day, and as for pomegranates, he had no taste for them.

"'Then I would advise you to go no farther,' said the traveler. 'If you fall into the hands of the Conjurer, you will never escape.'

"'I have heard of this great Conjurer,' replied Valentine, 'and I should like nothing better than to see him.'

"He took Keen-Point from his wallet and pretended to be playing with it, letting it fall and picking it up. The knife pointed beyond the spring and the pomegranate-tree, and in a little while Valentine went on his journey. On the hill beyond the spring, he turned and looked back, but the traveler had disappeared. As there was no place where he could hide, Valentine concluded that the man he had seen was no traveler at all, but Rimrak, the Conjurer.

"But he was not afraid. He went on his way, and, after a little, came to a grove of the tallest and biggest trees he had ever seen. As he was passing through this grove, he suddenly saw two tremendous spiders running about among the trees before and behind him. Their bodies were as big as a feather bed when it is rolled up, and they were pretty much the same color. Valentine watched their antics a few minutes, and soon saw they were spinning a web among the trees and that he was in the middle of it.

"The big spiders ran about on the ground spinning their webs around him, and then they began to jump from tree to tree. Valentine began to have a creepy feeling up and down his back, for he didn't relish the idea of being caught in a spider's web like a bluebottle fly. He wondered why Cob-Handle hadn't warned him of the danger, and then he remembered that the case-knife was wrapped so tightly in his wallet that it couldn't give a warning if it was to try. So he took all the knives from the wallet,—Keen-Point, Cob-Handle, and Butch,—and placed them in his girdle.

"Valentine hardly had time to fasten the straps about the wallet, before he felt Cob-Handle jumping about and thumping against his side. Then he saw one of the big spiders coming towards him. Big as it was it moved nimbly, and before Valentine had time to get out of the way, it ran around him and wrapped a strand of its web about his legs. The strand was as big as a stout twine and as strong and as hard as wire. Then the big spider turned and came back, but by this time Valentine had drawn Butch from his belt, and as the ugly creature came near he struck at it with the knife, and cut off one of its hairy legs. The creature was so full of life and venom that its leg jumped around and clawed the ground for some little time.

"Holding Butch point down and edge outwards, Valentine cut the strand of web that held his legs. It was so large, and drawn so tightly about him, that it sounded like somebody had broken a fiddle-string. In this way he cut his way through the web. The crippled spider ran to his mate, and the two stood watching Valentine, their eyes shining green and venomous, and their jaws working as if they were chewing something."

"They were sharpening their teeth," Buster John suggested.

"I reckon so," replied Mrs. Meadows. "Anyhow they were ugly enough to scare anybody. Valentine cut his way through the web and marched out on the other side. He rested a little and then went on his way; but he had not gone far before Cob-Handle began to jump and thump against his side. He stopped and looked around, but he could see nothing. He listened, but he could hear nothing.



"Presently he felt the ground moving beneath his feet, and he ran forward as fast as he could. And he didn't run too fast, either, for no sooner had he jumped away than a great hole appeared right where he had been standing. He could see that it was both wide and deep, but he didn't go back to look at it.

"No; he kept on his way, and it wasn't long before Cob-Handle began to jump and thump. Keen-Point also began to jump and thump, and showed him which way to go, and he ran as fast as he could. He heard a roaring sound as he started, and he had hardly got fifty steps away, though he was running with all his might, before a tremendous whirlwind came along, tearing up the bushes by roots and ploughing the ground. It came so close to Valentine that if he had had on a long-tail coat, I believe it would have been tangled in the whirlwind.

"I tell you," Mrs. Meadows went on, seeing the children smiling, "it was no laughing matter to Valentine. He shivered and trembled when he thought what a narrow escape he had had.

"He went on his way, and in a little while Cob-Handle began to jump and thump again. Valentine, thus warned, stood still and looked around more carefully than he had yet done. Some distance off, he saw a horrible creature coming towards him. It was in the shape of a man, but it had four arms and hands, and in each hand it was flourishing a club. Its hair stood out from its head like the shucks in a scouring-mop, and as it came nearer, Valentine saw that it had three eyes,—one on each side of its nose, and one in its forehead.

"Keen-Point said, 'Go straight forward,' and then Butch began to jump and thump, so Valentine placed Cob-Handle and Keen-Point in his girdle, and took Butch in his hand. Holding the point straight before him, he went towards the misshapen creature. Its red and watery eyes were blinking and winking, and its arms were threshing the air with the clubs at such a tremendous rate that Valentine thought his hour had surely come. But he shut his eyes and went straight at the creature. The sharp point of Butch had no sooner touched the monster on its hairy breast than its hands dropped the clubs, and it ran howling back the way it came.

"Valentine followed fast enough to see the creature enter a cave, and to this, Keen-Point told him he must go. As he went forward, a fierce-looking man came from the cave and stood guarding the entrance. He was covered from head to foot with silver armor, and he brandished a long keen sword with a silver handle. But Valentine went straight forward, holding Butch in his hand. The long sword never touched him, nor did the silver armor stand in his way. With one blow against Butch the long sword was shattered, and the silver armor fell away from Rimrak like the hulls from a ripe hickory-nut. Rimrak himself fell before Butch and disappeared with a hissing sound; and then the cave was no longer dark. Its roof seemed to roll away; and where the cave had been, there stood a great company of people who had been held captive by the Conjurer. They stood wondering what had happened and what would happen next. Among them was Geraldine. She knew Valentine, and ran to him, and then he was very happy. The people whom he had rescued, gathered around him and thanked him and thanked him; and some would have rewarded him, but he said he deserved none. He had come after the little girl, and he was not responsible for any accidents that happened to other people. This is what he said, and this is how he felt; but the people wondered that a young boy should be so bold and yet so modest.

"So they talked together, and decided to go with him to his home. Their horses and their carriages they found in good order, and in a little while they formed a procession. In this way they carried Valentine to his home, crying out to the people they passed,—

"'This is our deliverer! This is the brave boy that conquered Rimrak, the great Conjurer!'

"They carried Valentine to his home, and then they went with him to Geraldine's home. There was great rejoicing in the town. The little girl's father was rich, and he called all the people together; and they had a big dinner, and everybody was happy. The little girl had her old nurse back, and she grew up to be a beautiful young woman, and Valentine grew up to be a handsome young man."



XIX.

A STORY OF THE RIVER.

"I think that was a beautiful story," said Sweetest Susan, when Mrs. Meadows paused; "but was that the end?"

"Why, wasn't that enough?" inquired Mr. Rabbit sleepily. "What more could you ask? Didn't the boy and girl get back home where they could get something to eat?"

"What became of them?" asked Buster John. "The stories about boys and girls in books say they married and lived happily ever after."

"Oh, yes!" cried Mr. Thimblefinger. "I've heard about it. I remember the poetry,—

"'They married, then, and lived in clover, And when they died, they died all over.'"

"Well," said Mrs. Meadows, "I thought surely you'd get tired of Valentine and Geraldine by the time they got back home, and so I thought we'd do well to leave them there. Still, if you are not tired—" Mrs. Meadows paused and looked at the children.

"Oh, we are not tired," protested Buster John.

"Well," said Mrs. Meadows, "if that's the case, I'll tell you what happened after Valentine and Geraldine went back home. Of course, Geraldine's father and mother were very proud and happy when their little girl was brought back to them. They were very grateful to Valentine, and they offered him money. But somehow Valentine didn't want their money. He said that the pleasure of getting Geraldine out of the hands of the wicked Conjurer was reward enough for him, and so he shook his head and refused the money that was offered him.

"Now, the little girl's father was rich and prosperous, while Valentine was very poor, and it was natural that the rich man should wonder why the boy, who was poor, should refuse money. Somehow, he took a dislike to Valentine. He said to himself that a boy who would refuse money as a free gift would never be prosperous.

"As time went on, Valentine grew to be a handsome young man, but he was still poor. He went to see Geraldine sometimes, but as she grew older, she grew shyer. Valentine couldn't understand this, but he thought it was because she was old enough to know that she was rich and he was poor.

"He said to her one day. 'You are not as friendly as you used to be.'

"'Oh, yes I am,' she replied. 'I shall always be friendly with you.'

"'No,' said he, 'you have changed.'

"'No more than you,' was her answer.

"'I changed?' he cried. 'I love you more than I ever did.'

"With that Geraldine hung her head to hide her blushes, but Valentine thought she was angry. He turned on his heel and would have gone away, but she called him back, and told him not to go away angry—and then they made it up somehow. Valentine said he would speak to Geraldine's father. This he did, but the father shook his head.

"'You want to take her to a hut?' he cried. 'Why she might as well have stayed in the Conjurer's cave. Go and get you a fortune, and then come back, and maybe we'll talk the matter over.'

"Valentine went away very sad. He never turned his head, although Geraldine was watching him from a window, ready to wave her hand and throw him a kiss. He wandered off into the woods until he came to the bank of the River, and there he sat watching the water go by. He watched it until he almost forgot his own trouble. It went along slowly and majestically, and sometimes it seemed to come eddying back to kiss the bank at his feet. For a little while it smoothed the wrinkles in his mind. He wondered where the River came from and where it was going to. It was always coming and always going, and there was never an end to it. All day long it went by, sometimes laughing and playing in the shallows and sometimes sighing a little under the willows.

"Valentine watched it and listened to the pleasant sounds it made until he began to feel as if the River was something like a friend and companion. It soothed his grief and drove away his loneliness. Being alone, he began to speak his thoughts aloud.

"'Oh! I wish I had a friend as strong and as powerful as the River!' he cried.

"'And why not?' he heard a voice say. The water at his feet splashed a little louder. He looked around, but saw no one; he listened, but heard nothing.

"'I wonder who could have spoken?' he said aloud.

"'Who but your friend, the River?' a Voice replied.

"'Please don't mock me, whoever you are. There is no fun in misfortune,' said Valentine.

"'None at all' responded the Voice. 'I am your friend the River. I will give you all the aid in my power.'

"'How am I to know the River is talking?' Valentine asked.

"'By this,' replied the River. At the word, a wave larger than all the rest sprang up the bank, and threw its spray in Valentine's hair and face. 'That is my salute,' said the River. 'It is a rough way, but I know no other. Now, how can I aid you?'

"'That is what troubles me,' responded Valentine. 'You are always going; you never stay.'

"'True,' said the River; 'but I am always coming. Therefore I must be always returning.'

"'But how?' Valentine asked.

"'Not this way,' said the River, 'but over your head. When in the early morning, or in the warmer noon, or in the pleasant evenings, you see the white clouds flying westward, you may be sure that I am returning.' Then the River broke into a thousand ripples, as if smiling.

"But Valentine sat with a very serious face. 'I do not know how you can aid me,' he sighed.

"'I know what you wish,' the River replied. 'You wish riches.'

"'Yes,' said Valentine, 'but not for the sake of the riches themselves.'

"'Of course not!' the River exclaimed. 'Riches would be worthless if they could not command something better; and they are worse than worthless when the power they give is used for evil. I can give you riches, but not without your help. I can give you the power to obtain wealth, but I cannot give you the power to use it as it should be used.'

"Valentine listened to the mysterious Voice of the River like one in a dream. He could hardly believe his ears.

"'You say nothing,' said the River; 'you seem half asleep. But if I am to help you, you must help yourself. Walk by my side a little way. Further down you will come to a boat that has drifted against the bank.'



"Valentine rose and stretched himself, and walked by the side of the River. He had not gone far before he came upon a boat that had drifted into an eddy. It lay there rocking, and a long oar rested against the seat.

"'Jump in,' said the River; 'shove the boat away from the bank and trust to me. Take the oar and pull, and I will push you along.'

"Valentine did as he was told, and he soon found that the boat was gliding swiftly along. The trees and houses on each side seemed to be running a race to the rear, and the boats that he passed on the River seemed to be standing still. He went on for some hours, always trusting to the River. When he grew tired, he held his oar in the air and rested, but whether he rested or whether he rowed, he saw that his boat was always gliding swiftly along.

"Presently, in the far distance, he could see the spires and steeples of a city, and he wondered whether he would be compelled to go gliding by, or whether the River would land him there. But he was not left long in doubt.

"'That is your future home,' said the River. 'There you will find friends, and there you will become rich and famous.'

"'But how?' asked Valentine.

"'I can only tell you the beginning,' replied the River. 'When your boat glides to the landing-place, you will see there an old gentleman richly dressed. He will ask you if you have seen his little son. He has been there every day for two days, and he has asked of all comers the same question.'

"'What shall I say to him?' asked Valentine.

"'Tell him you have not seen his son,' replied the River, 'but that you feel sure you can find the boy. Tell the old gentleman that you have come a long journey, and need rest, but that when you have refreshed yourself, you will go and seek his son.'

"'But where shall I seek for the boy?' asked Valentine.

"'Come to me,' said the River. 'I will be here. I am always going, and yet I am always coming.'

"By this time they had come to the city. 'Row for the landing,' said the River; 'your fortune is there.'

"Valentine dipped his oar in the water and rowed to the landing. He leaped from his boat, threw the chain around a stake, and looked around. Sure enough, an old gentleman, richly dressed, was walking up and down, his hands crossed behind him. When he saw Valentine he paused and looked at him. Valentine bowed politely as he had been taught to do.

"'You are a comely lad,' said the old gentleman. 'Did you come down the River, or from below?'

"'I came down the River,' replied Valentine, touching his hat again.

"'I have lost my youngest son,' said the old gentleman. 'He is a little boy about six years old. He wandered from home two days ago, came to the River landing, and was last seen playing in a boat. I have been trying to find him. My boats have been searching in all directions, but the child cannot be found.'

"'I think I can find him,' said Valentine, 'but first I must rest and refresh myself. I have come a long journey, and I am tired.'

"The old gentleman seized him by the hand. 'Come with me!' he exclaimed. 'You shall go to my house. Your every want shall be supplied. If you succeed in finding my lost boy you shall have whatever you ask for.'

"'I shall ask for nothing,' replied Valentine. 'The pleasure I shall have in restoring your son to your arms will be sufficient reward for me.'

"'Nevertheless,' said the gentleman, 'you shall have a more substantial reward than that.'

"So he took Valentine home, and treated him with the greatest kindness. He was served with rich food and the finest spiced wines, and fitted out with an elegant suit of clothes. Early the next morning, Valentine thanked the gentleman for his kindness.

"'I go now,' he said, 'to find your son. Watch for me near the River. I may return soon, or I may be gone long, but when I return I will bring your son.'

"'You are young,' remarked the gentleman. 'You are hopeful and brave. You imagine you can succeed where others have failed. But I fear not. My lost boy has been sought by men older than you, and quite as brave, but they have not found him.'

"'Certainly, I may fail,' Valentine replied. 'If I depended on myself alone, I know I would fail. But I trust in Providence.'

"Valentine and the gentleman then went to the River—one to go in search of the lost child, and the other to watch and wait for the return. Valentine went to the water's edge.

"'Get a boat with a sail,' whispered the River, lapping the sand at his feet. This was provided at once, for the gentleman was very wealthy, and then Valentine set out on his voyage. 'Go back the way you came,' said the River, 'but keep out of the middle current. Let the wind fill your sails and carry you near the shore, on the right.' With the River to direct him, Valentine sailed along with a light heart and a happy mind. For more than two hours he journeyed up the River, and it was not until the sun was low in the west that the River told him to lower the sails of his boat. This done, the River carried his boat gently ashore, and as it glided on the sand, he saw, near by, a boat, in which a little boy lay fast asleep. Without disturbing him, Valentine lifted the little fellow in his arms, and transferred him to the new boat, in which wraps, and cloaks, and food had been placed.

"It was easy to guess how the little boy had been lost. He had gone to play in a boat, which broke loose from its fastenings, and drifted slowly up the River in the eddies that play hide and seek near the bank. The first day the searchers searched for him, they went too far. The next day they searched too near, and so the child drifted and drifted, and was lost sure enough. He was very cold and wet when Valentine found him, but in a little while he was warmly wrapped in the cloaks that had been provided.

"'Take his boat in tow,' said the River. 'Let your sails stay down, and take the oars and row home as hard as you can.'

"The River helped with its swift current, and it was not long before Valentine caught a glimpse of the bonfire that was burning at the landing to light him back to the city.

"There was great rejoicing when Valentine returned with the lost child. The bells were rung and salutes fired from the big cannon that commanded the approaches to the city. It turned out that the gentleman whose child Valentine had found was the ruler of the city, and you may depend upon it he was grateful to the unknown young man.

"But in all large cities there are some envious people, and these soon had it whispered about that Valentine was a mere adventurer who had stolen the child and hid it so that he might rescue it again when a big reward was offered. These whispers grew thicker and thicker until at last they reached the ears of every one. No one knew Valentine, and appearances were against him, but one day he was approached by an old man with a long white beard, who asked him from whence he came. The old man was so kind and agreeable in his manner that Valentine told him the story of the rescue of Geraldine.

"Much to his surprise the old man rose and embraced him. 'Come with me!' he cried. So saying, he carried Valentine to the marketplace, and there in the presence of a great crowd of people, the old man said:—

"'Behold my rescuer! Behold the brave youth who conquered Rimrak, the Conjurer.'

"This closed the mouths of the envious, and when that happens, there is not much more to tell in any story."

Here Mrs. Meadows paused and looked at Mr. Rabbit, who sat fast asleep in his chair.

"Did he get rich and marry Geraldine?" inquired Sweetest Susan.

"Why of course," replied Mrs. Meadows. "Do you reckon he'd have gone through all these ups and downs if he wasn't to marry and settle down and be happy in the end?"

"Well," said Buster John, "it was a pretty good story."

"I speck so," remarked Drusilla, "but dey's lots too much richness in it fer me."

Mrs. Meadows laughed so heartily at this that Mr. Rabbit was aroused from his nap, and looked around in surprise.

"Did I hear somebody say supper was ready?" he asked.

Mrs. Meadows laughed again, but this time she glanced at the sky of Mr. Thimblefinger's queer country. It had grown perceptibly darker. Mr. Thimblefinger drew out his little watch. Mr. Rabbit closed one eye, and sat as if listening for something.

"Well," said Mrs. Meadows with a sigh, "I reckon we'll have to tell you good-by for this time, but I do hope you'll come again. I declare it has been a treat to have some new somebody to talk to. By the time you get back home the sun will be setting in your country, and your folks will begin to be uneasy about you."



The children were not at all anxious to go. They had had a very curious experience in Mr. Thimblefinger's queer country, and they had almost forgotten that the sun in their part of the world had a habit of going down. But they said they were ready, and then they shook hands all around. When Buster John came to shake hands with Mr. Rabbit, the latter looked at the youngster a moment.

"Did you ever happen to know a colored man named Aaron?" he asked.

"Uncle Aaron!" exclaimed Buster John. "Why, he lives on our plantation. He's the foreman."

"Well," said Mr. Rabbit solemnly, "when you see Aaron, take his left hand in both of yours, bend his thumb back a little, and with your right thumb make this mark *. The first time he will pay no attention. Make it the second time. Then he will be ready to listen. Make it the third time. Then he will ask you what you want. Say to him that you want to learn the language of the animals."

"Won't he get angry?" asked Buster John.

"Try him," replied Mr. Rabbit with a cunning look. "Now, good-by!"

"When you get ready to come again," said Mrs. Meadows, "just drop a big apple in the spring, and I'll be bound we'll all see it and know what it means. And when you come be sure and bring the apple. It's been a month of Sundays since I've had one."

The children promised they would, and then, with Mr. Thimblefinger leading the way, they started home, which they reached without further adventure. As they stood on the brink of the spring, waving their hands to Mr. Thimblefinger, who was smiling at them from the bottom, Drusilla remarked with unction:—

"I dunner how 't is wid you all, but I don't no mo' b'lieve we been down dar under dat water dar dan—dan—dan de man in de moon. Dat I don't!"

Then the youngsters heard the supper-bell ring, and they all ran towards the house.



Transcriber's Note

Minor typographic errors have been corrected without note.

Some illustrations have been moved slightly so that they are not mid-paragraph.

THE END