Fifty Famous Stories Retold

"It is the fruit of a plant, and all plants belong to that kingdom," said the boy. The king was pleased. "You are quite right," he said; "and you shall have the orange for your prize." He tossed it gayly to the boy. "Catch it if you can!" he said. Then he took a yellow gold piece from his pocket, and held it up so that it glit-tered in the sunlight. "Now to what kingdom does this belong?" he asked. Another bright boy answered quick-ly, "To the min-er-al kingdom, sir! All metals belong to that kingdom." "That is a good answer," said the king. "The gold piece is your prize." The children were de-light-ed. With eager faces they waited to hear what the stranger would say next. "I will ask you only one more question," said the king, "and it is an easy one." Then he stood up, and said, "Tell me, my little folks, to what kingdom do I belong?" The bright boys were puz-zled now. Some thought of saying, "To the kingdom of Prussia." Some wanted to say, "To the animal kingdom." But they were a little afraid, and all kept still. At last a tiny blue-eyed child looked up into the king's smiling face, and said in her simple way,-- "I think to the kingdom of heaven." King Frederick William stooped down and lifted the little maiden in his arms. Tears were in his eyes as he kissed her, and said, "So be it, my child! So be it." THE BARMECIDE FEAST. There was once a rich old man who was called the Bar-me-cide. He lived in a beautiful palace in the midst of flowery gardens. He had every-thing that heart could wish. In the same land there was a poor man whose name was Schac-a-bac. His clothing was rags, and his food was the scraps which other people had thrown away. But he had a light heart, and was as happy as a king. Once when Schac-a-bac had not had anything to eat for a long time, he thought that he would go and ask the Bar-me-cide to help him. The servant at the door said, "Come in and talk with our master. He will not send you away hungry." Schacabac went in, and passed through many beautiful rooms, looking for the Barmecide. At last he came to a grand hall where there were soft carpets on the floor, and fine pictures on the walls, and pleasant couches to lie down upon. At the upper end of the room he saw a noble man with a long white beard. It was the Barmecide; and poor Schacabac bowed low before him, as was the custom in that country. The Barmecide spoke very kindly, and asked what was wanted. Schacabac told him about all his troubles, and said that it was now two days since he had tasted bread. "Is it possible?" said the Barmecide. "You must be almost dead with hunger; and here I have plenty and to spare!" Then he turned and called, "Ho, boy! Bring in the water to wash our hands, and then order the cook to hurry the supper." Schacabac had not expected to be treated so kindly. He began to thank the rich man. "Say not a word," said the Barmecide, "but let us get ready for the feast." Then the rich man began to rub his hands as though some one was pouring water on them. "Come and wash with me," he said. Schacabac saw no boy, nor basin, nor water. But he thought that he ought to do as he was bidden; and so, like the Barmecide, he made a pretense of washing. "Come now," said the Barmecide, "let us have supper." He sat down, as if to a table, and pre-tend-ed to be carving a roast. Then he said, "Help yourself, my good friend. You said you were hungry: so, now, don't be afraid of the food." Schacabac thought that he un-der-stood the joke, and he made pretense of taking food, and passing it to his mouth. Then he began to chew, and said, "You see, sir, I lose no time." "Boy," said the old man, "bring on the roast goose.--Now, my good friend, try this choice piece from the breast. And here are sweet sauce, honey, raisins, green peas, and dry figs. Help yourself, and remember that other good things are coming." Schacabac was almost dead with hunger, but he was too polite not to do as he was bidden. "Come," said the Barmecide, "have another piece of the roast lamb. Did you ever eat anything so de-li-cious?" "Never in my life," said Schacabac. "Your table is full of good things." "Then eat heartily," said the Barmecide. "You cannot please me better." After this came the des-sert. The Barmecide spoke of sweet-meats and fruits; and Schacabac made believe that he was eating them. "Now is there anything else that you would like?" asked the host. "Ah, no!" said poor Schacabac. "I have indeed had great plenty." "Let us drink, then," said the Barmecide. "Boy, bring on the wine!" "Excuse me, my lord," said Schacabac, "I will drink no wine, for it is for-bid-den." The Barmecide seized him by the hand. "I have long wished to find a man like you," he said. "But come, now we will sup in earnest." He clapped his hands. Servants came, and he ordered supper. Soon they sat down to a table loaded with the very dishes of which they had pre-tend-ed to eat. Poor Schacabac had never had so good a meal in all his life. When they had fin-ished, and the table had been cleared away, the Barmecide said,-- "I have found you to be a man of good un-der-stand-ing. Your wits are quick, and you are ready always to make the best of everything. Come and live with me, and manage my house." And so Schacabac lived with the Barmecide many years, and never again knew what it was to be hungry. THE ENDLESS TALE. In the Far East there was a great king who had no work to do. Every day, and all day long, he sat on soft cush-ions and lis-tened to stories. And no matter what the story was about, he never grew tired of hearing it, even though it was very long. "There is only one fault that I find with your story," he often said: "it is too short." All the story-tellers in the world were in-vit-ed to his palace; and some of them told tales that were very long indeed. But the king was always sad when a story was ended. At last he sent word into every city and town and country place, offering a prize to any one who should tell him an endless tale. He said,-- "To the man that will tell me a story which shall last forever, I will give my fairest daugh-ter for his wife; and I will make him my heir, and he shall be king after me." But this was not all. He added a very hard con-di-tion. "If any man shall try to tell such a story and then fail, he shall have his head cut off." The king's daughter was very pretty, and there were many young men in that country who were willing to do anything to win her. But none of them wanted to lose their heads, and so only a few tried for the prize. One young man invented a story that lasted three months; but at the end of that time, he could think of nothing more. His fate was a warning to others, and it was a long time before another story-teller was so rash as to try the king's patience. But one day a stran-ger from the South came into the palace. "Great king," he said, "is it true that you offer a prize to the man who can tell a story that has no end?" "It is true," said the king. "And shall this man have your fairest daughter for his wife, and shall he be your heir?" "Yes, if he suc-ceeds," said the king. "But if he fails, he shall lose his head." "Very well, then," said the stran-ger. "I have a pleasant story about locusts which I would like to relate." "Tell it," said the king. "I will listen to you." The story-teller began his tale. "Once upon a time a certain king seized upon all the corn in his country, and stored it away in a strong gran-a-ry. But a swarm of locusts came over the land and saw where the grain had been put. After search-ing for many days they found on the east side of the gran-a-ry a crev-ice that was just large enough for one locust to pass through at a time. So one locust went in and carried away a grain of corn; then another locust went in and carried away a grain of corn; then another locust went in and carried away a grain of corn." Day after day, week after week, the man kept on saying, "Then another locust went in and carried away a grain of corn." A month passed; a year passed. At the end of two years, the king said,-- "How much longer will the locusts be going in and carrying away corn?" "O king!" said the story-teller, "they have as yet cleared only one cubit; and there are many thousand cubits in the granary." "Man, man!" cried the king, "you will drive me mad. I can listen to it no longer. Take my daughter; be my heir; rule my kingdom. But do not let me hear another word about those horrible locusts!" And so the strange story-teller married the king's daughter. And he lived happily in the land for many years. But his father-in-law, the king, did not care to listen to any more stories. THE BLIND MEN AND THE ELEPHANT. There were once six blind men who stood by the road-side every day, and begged from the people who passed. They had often heard of el-e-phants, but they had never seen one; for, being blind, how could they? It so happened one morning that an el-e-phant was driven down the road where they stood. When they were told that the great beast was before them, they asked the driver to let him stop so that they might see him. Of course they could not see him with their eyes; but they thought that by touching him they could learn just what kind of animal he was. The first one happened to put his hand on the elephant's side. "Well, well!" he said, "now I know all about this beast. He is ex-act-ly like a wall." The second felt only of the elephant's tusk. "My brother," he said, "you are mistaken. He is not at all like a wall. He is round and smooth and sharp. He is more like a spear than anything else." The third happened to take hold of the elephant's trunk. "Both of you are wrong," he said. "Anybody who knows anything can see that this elephant is like a snake." The fourth reached out his arms, and grasped one of the elephant's legs. "Oh, how blind you are!" he said. "It is very plain to me that he is round and tall like a tree." The fifth was a very tall man, and he chanced to take hold of the elephant's ear. "The blind-est man ought to know that this beast is not like any of the things that you name," he said. "He is ex-act-ly like a huge fan." The sixth was very blind indeed, and it was some time before he could find the elephant at all. At last he seized the animal's tail. "O foolish fellows!" he cried. "You surely have lost your senses. This elephant is not like a wall, or a spear, or a snake, or a tree; neither is he like a fan. But any man with a par-ti-cle of sense can see that he is exactly like a rope." Then the elephant moved on, and the six blind men sat by the roadside all day, and quar-reled about him. Each believed that he knew just how the animal looked; and each called the others hard names because they did not agree with him. People who have eyes sometimes act as foolishly. MAXIMILIAN AND THE GOOSE BOY. One summer day King Max-i-mil'ian of Ba-va'ri-a was walking in the country. The sun shone hot, and he stopped under a tree to rest. It was very pleasant in the cool shade. The king lay down on the soft grass, and looked up at the white clouds sailing across the sky. Then he took a little book from his pocket and tried to read. But the king could not keep his mind on his book. Soon his eyes closed, and he was fast asleep. It was past noon when he awoke. He got up from his grassy bed, and looked around. Then he took his cane in his hand, and started for home. When he had walked a mile or more, he happened to think of his book. He felt for it in his pocket. It was not there. He had left it under the tree.