Journeys Through Bookland Volume Ii Part 58

"That's vulgar work," said the Darning-Needle. "I shall never get through. I'm breaking! I'm breaking!" And she really broke. "Did I not say so?" said the Darning-Needle; "I'm too fine." "Now it's quite useless," said the Fingers; but they were obliged to hold her fast, all the same; for the cook dropped some sealing wax upon the needle, and pinned her kerchief about her neck with it.

"So now I'm a breastpin!" said the Darning-Needle. "I knew very well that I should come to honor; when one is something, one comes to something."

And she laughed quietly to herself--and one can never see when a Darning-Needle laughs. There she sat, as proud as if she were in a state coach, and looked all about her.

"May I be permitted to ask if you are gold?" she inquired of the Pin, her neighbor. "You have a very pretty appearance, and a peculiar head, but it is only little. You must take pains to grow, for it's not every one that has sealing wax dropped upon him."

And the Darning-Needle drew herself up so proudly that she fell out of the handkerchief right into the sink, which the cook was rinsing out.

"Now we're going on a journey," said the Darning-Needle. "If I only don't get lost!"

But she really was lost.

"I'm too fine for this world," she observed, as she lay in the gutter.

"But I know who I am, and there's always something in that."

So the Darning-Needle kept her proud behavior, and did not lose her good humor. And things of many kinds swam over her--chips and straws and pieces of old newspapers.

"Only look how they sail!" said the Darning-Needle. "They don't know what is under them! I'm here; I remain firmly here. See, there goes a chip thinking of nothing in the world but himself--of a chip! There's a straw going by now. How he turns? How he twirls about! Don't think only of yourself; you might easily run up against a stone. There swims a bit of newspaper. What's written upon it has long been forgotten, and yet it gives itself airs. I sit quietly and patiently here. I know who I am, and I shall remain what I am."

One day something lay close beside her that glittered splendidly; then the Darning-Needle believed that it was a diamond; but it was a Bit of broken Bottle; and because it shone, the Darning-Needle spoke to it, introducing herself as a breastpin.

"I suppose you are a diamond?" she observed.

"Why, yes, something of that kind."

And then each believed the other to be a very valuable thing; and they began speaking about the world, and how very conceited it was.

"I have been in a lady's box," said the Darning-Needle, "and this lady was a cook. She had five fingers on each hand, and I never saw anything so conceited as those five fingers. And yet they were only there that they might take me out of the box, and put me back into it."

"Were they of good birth?" asked the Bit of Bottle.

"No, indeed," replied the Darning-Needle, "but very haughty. There were five brothers, all of the Finger family. They kept very proudly together, though they were of different lengths. The outermost, the Thumbling, was short and fat; he walked out in front of the ranks, and had only one joint in his back, and could only make a single bow; but he said if he were hacked off from a man, that man was useless for service in war. Dainty-Mouth, the second finger, thrust himself into sweet and sour, pointed to the sun and moon, and gave the impression when they wrote. Longman, the third, looked at all the others over his shoulder.

Goldborder, the fourth, went about with a golden belt round his waist; and little Playman did nothing at all, and was proud of it. There was nothing but bragging among them, and therefore I went away."

"And now we sit here and glitter!" said the Bit of Bottle.

At that moment more water came into the gutter, so that it overflowed, and the Bit of Bottle was carried away.

"So, he is disposed of," observed the Darning-Needle. "I remain here; I am too fine. But that's my pride, and my pride is honorable." And proudly she sat there, and had many great thoughts. "I could almost believe I had been born of a sunbeam, I'm so fine. It really appears to me as if the sunbeams were always seeking for me under the water. Ah!

I'm so fine that my mother cannot find me. If I had my old eye, which broke off, I think I should cry; but no, I should not do that; it's not genteel to cry."

One day a couple of street boys lay grubbing in the gutter, where they sometimes found old nails, farthings, and similar treasures. It was dirty work, but they took great delight in it.

"Oh!" cried one, who had p.r.i.c.ked himself with the Darning-Needle.

"There's a fellow for you."

"I'm not a fellow, I'm a young lady," said the Darning-Needle.

But n.o.body listened to her. The sealing wax had come off, and she had turned black; but black makes one look slender, and she thought herself finer even than before.

"Here comes an eggsh.e.l.l sailing along," said the boys; and they stuck the Darning-Needle fast into the eggsh.e.l.l.

"White walls, and black myself! that looks well," remarked the Darning- Needle. "Now one can see me. I only hope I shall not be seasick!" But she was not seasick at all. "One is proof against seasickness if one has a steel stomach and does not forget that one is a little more than an ordinary person! The finer one is, the more one can bear."

"Crack!" went the eggsh.e.l.l, for a hand-barrow went over her.

"How it crushes one!" said the Darning-Needle. "I'm getting seasick now --I'm quite sick."

But she was not really sick, though the hand-barrow had run over her; she lay there at full length, and there she may lie.

THE POTATO

By Thomas Moore

I'm a careless potato, and care not a pin How into existence I came; If they planted me drill-wise, or dibbled me in, To me 'tis exactly the same.

The bean and the pea may more loftily tower, But I care not a b.u.t.ton for them; Defiance I nod with my beautiful flower When the earth is hoed up to my stem.

THE QUEEN OF THE UNDER-WORLD

Ceres, G.o.ddess of agriculture, had one daughter, named Proserpina, whom she loved more than anything else in earth or sky. Sometimes Proserpina accompanied her mother as she journeyed over the earth in her dragon- car, making the corn grow; sometimes she traveled about the earth by herself, tending the flowers, which were her special care; but what she liked best was to stray with her companions, the nymphs, on the slopes of Mount AEtna,

"I, a maiden, dwelt With loved Demeter[FN below] on the sunny plains Of our own Sicily. There, day by day, I sported with my playmate G.o.ddesses In virgin freedom. Budding age made gay Our lightsome feet, and on the flowery slopes We wandered daily, gathering flowers to weave In careless garlands for our locks, and pa.s.sed The days in innocent gladness."

[Footnote: The Greeks and Romans, while they believed in many of the same G.o.ds, had different names for them. The Latin names are the ones most commonly used. Thus the G.o.ddess whom the Romans called Ceres, the Greeks knew as Demeter, while her daughter, Proserpina, was by the Greeks called Persephone. The poetic quotations used in this story are from the Epic of Hades, by Lewis Morris.]

All the year round the maidens enjoyed these pleasures, for never yet had the change of seasons appeared upon the earth; never had the cold, sunless days come to make the earth barren.

"There was then Summer nor winter, springtide nor the time Of harvest, but the soft unfailing sun Shone always, and the sowing time was one With reaping; fruit and flower together sprung Upon the trees; and the blade and ripened ear Together clothed the plains."

One day while they played and laughed and sang, vying with each other as to which could make the most beautiful garlands, they were startled by a strange rumbling sound. Nearer it came, louder it grew; and suddenly to the frightened eyes of the maidens there appeared a great chariot, drawn by four wild-looking, foam-flecked black steeds. Not long did the girls gaze at the horses or the chariot--all eyes were drawn in fascination to the driver of the car. He was handsome as only a G.o.d could be, and yet so gloomy that all knew instantly he could be none other than Pluto, king of the underworld.

Suddenly, while his horses were almost at full speed, he jerked them to a standstill. Then he sprang to the ground, seized Proserpina in his arms, mounted his chariot, and was off before the frightened nymphs could catch their breath to cry out. Poor Prosperina screamed and wept, but no one was near to help her or even to hear her. On they flew, Pluto doing his best to console the weeping girl, but refusing, with a stern shake of the head and a black frown, her plea that she might be allowed to return to her own home, or at least to bid farewell to her mother.

[Ill.u.s.tration: PLUTO SEIZED PROSERPINA]

"Never!" he exclaimed. "I have as much right as the other G.o.ds to a beautiful wife; and since I knew that you, whom I had seen and loved, would not go with me willingly, I took this way to compel you."

When they came at last to the bank of a raging river, and were obliged to halt, Proserpina redoubled her cries, but still no one heard. Pluto, fuming and fretting and calling down curses on the River Cyane, which thus opposed his pa.s.sage, seized his great two-p.r.o.nged fork and struck the earth a terrific blow. To Proserpina's horror a great cavern opened before them, into which they were rapidly whirled. Then, with a crash, the chasm closed behind them, and they moved on in utter darkness. The horses seemed to find their way as easily as in the light, however, and Pluto heaved a sigh of relief as the last of the daylight disappeared.

"Do not tremble so, my fair Proserpina," he said, in a voice far from unkind. "When your eyes become accustomed to the gloom, you will find it much more restful than the glare we have left behind us."