Child's Story Garden, - [ebook reader wifi .txt] 📗

answer. One day

there came a summons to the court—King Robert’s brother, the Emperor of

Rome, sent word for King Robert and all of his court to visit him at

Easter-time, and great preparations were made for the journey. When the

train was ready it formed a beautiful procession. The new king rode at

its head, in his splendor, and all the beautiful ladies and the brave

knights came riding behind in their gorgeous robes. At the last of this

splendid train rode King Robert on a queer old mule. He had on the cap

and bells, and behind him sat the ugly ape, and, as they passed along

the street, the boys laughed and jeered; but King Robert said to

himself: “They will not laugh long,” because his heart was glad now, for

they were going to Rome, where his own brother ruled, and now surely he

would be restored to his rights, for his brother would see and know that

the new king was an impostor. Thus the splendid train rode to Rome, and

the emperor was there to meet them.

 

When the emperor saw the strange king he went to him and embraced him

and called him “brother.” At this, King Robert rushed forward and cried

out: “I am the king, thy brother. This man is an impostor. Do you not

know me? I am the king.” But the emperor only looked at him strangely,

and, turning to the strange king, he said: “Why do you keep this madman

at your court?” The new king only smiled, and made no answer.

 

The visit ended, and again the splendid train passed back to Sicily, and

King Robert still rode behind. His heart was very sad, because he

thought: “If my own brother knows me not, what hope can there be?”

 

When the new king came back to Sicily he changed many of the cruel laws,

and the whole land was made glad and happy, as it had never been before.

King Robert noticed the change and wondered at it.

 

It was Easter-time again, and King Robert said in his heart, “I will go

to church again this morning.” Behind all the procession he rode, as

usual, and took his seat in the back of the church, so that no one might

see him. Everything was beautiful at this Easter-time. The church, the

flowers, the music, all bore the Easter message. When the music began it

crept into King Robert’s heart, and as he listened the tears rolled down

his cheek, and he bowed his head in prayer. The first words that he

heard were the old, familiar ones: “The Lord can exalt the humble and

bring down the proud and mighty from their seats.” As poor King Robert

listened he humbly bowed his head and said: “Ah, surely that is true;

the Lord in heaven is mightiest of all. He is the king.”

 

When the king and his court had reached home again that day, the new

king called King Robert immediately to his throne room, and upon his

face there seemed to be a glorious light shining forth, and, looking at

King Robert with a wondrous smile, he asked the old, old question: “Art

thou the king?” But King Robert only bowed his head and said: “I know

not who I am. I only know that I am the most humble and most unworthy of

all men to be the king.” To these words the new king replied: “Thou art

indeed the king, and I—I am an angel sent from Heaven to help thee for

a little while.”

 

When King Robert raised his head, behold! he was alone. The angel had

gone. He again had on his own robes, his own crown, and was bearing his

own scepter.

 

That day, when the courtiers came to wait upon the king, they found him

kneeling beside his throne in prayer.

 

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow [Adapted]

THE GREAT STONE FACE

One afternoon, when the sun was going down, a mother and her little boy

sat at the door of their cottage talking together and watching the great

mountains before them, as they changed with the tints of the setting

sun, from gold to crimson, and then to deep purple, till finally the

afterglow was gone, leaving only the bare mountains standing out in gray

relief against the evening sky.

 

“Mother,” said the child, whose name was Ernest, “the Great Stone Face

is smiling at us. I wish it could speak, for it looks so very kind that

I know its voice is pleasant.”

 

And what was the Great Stone Face?

 

Off in the distance one great mountain rose far up above the others, and

stood like a great giant among its fellows. By some peculiar art the

rocks had been thrown together in such a way as to make the mountain

look almost exactly like a human face. There was the broad arch of the

forehead, a hundred feet in length; the nose, with its long bridge, and

the great lips, which, if they could have spoken, would surely have

rolled thunder from one end of the valley to the other.

 

It was a happy lot for children to grow up to manhood or womanhood with

the Great Stone Face before their eyes, because all of its features were

noble, so that just to look at it made one wish to be better.

 

This, then, was what Ernest and his mother sat looking at long after the

sun had sunk behind those great piles of stones.

 

“Mother,” said Ernest, “if I were to see a man with such a face I know I

should love him.”

 

“If an old prophecy comes true,” answered his mother, “we may see a man

some time or other with exactly such a face as that.”

 

“Oh, tell me about it, mother. Will it really come true?” eagerly

inquired Ernest.

 

Then his mother told him a story which her mother had told to her when

she was a child. No one knew who had heard it first. The Indians had

known it years before, and they said it had been murmured by the

mountain streams and whispered by the wind among the treetops. And the

story was this: At some future day—no one knew when—a child would be

born in the valley who would grow up to be the noblest and greatest man

of his time, and his face would look exactly like the Great Stone Face

which had gazed kindly down on the valley for so many years. Many of the

people in the valley said this was only a foolish tale, never to come to

pass, but a few still watched and waited, hoping for the great man to

come, but as yet he had not appeared.

 

When Ernest heard the story he clapped his hands, and said eagerly: “Oh,

mother, dear mother, I do hope I shall live to see him.”

 

The mother smiled, and, putting her hand on the boy’s head, said:

“Perhaps you may.”

 

Ernest never forgot the story his mother told him. It was always in his

mind whenever he looked upon the Great Stone Face. He spent his boyhood

days in the humble little cottage, helping his mother with the simple

household duties, and, as he grew older, working in the fields to earn

their daily bread.

 

Ernest was a quiet boy, but happy. There was no school in the little

village, but a great teacher was there. After the day’s toil was over

Ernest would sit for hours watching the Great Stone Face, and to him it

became the teacher of all that was good and noble. Many times, as the

sunset rays tinted the side of the great mountain and lighted up all the

features of the wonderful face, Ernest would imagine that it smiled on

him, and perhaps it did. Who knows?

 

Often a great longing would come to Ernest as he watched the Great Face,

and he would say again, “Oh, I wish the great man would come.”

 

But the years passed by, and Ernest grew from a happy little child to a

quiet, thoughtful boy, and still the great man did not appear.

 

But one time a rumor went through all the valley that the great man had

at last arrived. His early home had been in the quiet valley, but as a

young man he had gone into the world to seek his fortune, and truly he

had found it, for everything he attempted prospered exceedingly, till it

might be said of him, as of Midas in the fable, that whatever his

fingers touched changed at once to piles of gold. His name was Mr.

Gathergold. All who saw him declared him to be the exact image of the

Great Stone Face on the mountain side, and the man so long expected to

fulfill the prophecy.

 

The whole valley was in a state of great excitement, for the wonderful

personage was coming back to his native home to spend his last days in

peace and quiet. He sent before him a whole army of architects and

workmen, who built for him a palace more beautiful and grand than

anything the simple village people had ever before seen.

 

The outside was of pure marble, dazzling white, while the interior was

inlaid with solid gold and precious stones.

 

Ernest watched the great palace grow, and his heart was glad, for

finally his hopes were to come true. He waited eagerly for the great man

himself to come. He spent more time than usual gazing at the face on the

mountain side, that he might know exactly how Mr. Gathergold would look.

 

Finally the day of the great man’s arrival came. The whole village came

out to see him. The rumbling of wheels was heard, and a carriage drawn

by four horses dashed down the road.

 

“Here he comes!” cried the people. “Here comes the great Mr.

Gathergold!”

 

As the carriage drew near the people pressed around, and there through

the window they saw the great man. He was little and old, with a face as

hard and yellow as the piles of gold he had gathered together. He had a

low forehead, small, sharp eyes, puckered about with many wrinkles, and

very sharp lips.

 

“The very image of the Great Stone Face!” shouted the people. “Sure

enough, the old prophecy is true, and here we have the great man come at

last.”

 

By the roadside there chanced to be a poor woman and her two children,

who, as the carriage passed, held out their hands and asked for help. A

hand was thrust out of the window, and a few pennies were thrown on the

ground. Then the carriage rolled on, and the people continued to shout,

“He is the very image of the Great Stone Face.”

 

But Ernest stood apart from the crowd, nor did he join in the shout, for

his heart was full of sorrow and disappointment. Through an opening in

the trees he saw the Great Stone Face looking benignly down upon him,

and the great lips seemed to say: “He will come. Fear not, Ernest. The

man will come.”

 

The years went on, and Ernest ceased to be a boy. He had grown to be a

young man now. He was not much noticed in the valley, for he was still

quiet and modest. They saw nothing remarkable about his way of living,

save that when the work of the day was done he loved to go apart and

gaze upon the Great Stone Face.

 

They knew not that it had become his greatest teacher, filling his heart

and mind with thoughts and hopes far above earthly things.

 

By this time poor old