Uncle Joe's Stories. Baron Edward Hugessen Knatchbull-Hugessen Brabourne

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СКАЧАТЬ very happily. You will perhaps be glad to hear that Pig-face and his young men were not tortured after all. They were exchanged for prisoners whom the Sioux had taken in their last raid, and I never heard any more about them. Moon-eye was very gracious to me whilst I was with her people, but it annoyed me to see that fellow 'Rising Sun' always following her about, and I therefore shortened my stay.

      "Jumbo and I took our departure early one morning, and were accompanied by a number of the tribe for some distance on our way. We had many more curious adventures together in the woods, my trusty companion and I, and very lucky we were to have come so well out of them all. But on looking back to my forest and wilderness life, I never remember to have had a more stirring adventure than that of which I have just told you. It sometimes comes back to me now, as I lie awake at nights: I fancy I see those ten vagabonds tramping after me through the woods, – then comes the horrid scene with the snake – the battle – the slaughter – the waking – the flight with Moon-eye – the capture – the rescue, – all comes flitting like a vision before my eyes, and I drop to sleep at last, wondering how I have been preserved through so much trouble and so many dangers, and thinking how lucky it is for you young ones to have a respectable old uncle with so many experiences to relate, and such interesting and curious tales with which to instruct and amuse your young minds."

      ZAC'S BRIDE

      King Fridolin sat gloomily in the ancient halls of his race. A mighty race, forsooth, had they been for many a long year, and a mighty king was Fridolin. I shall not tell you the precise situation of his kingdom, for it is only by avoiding particular descriptions that we historians escape a variety of impertinent and troublesome questions. Suffice it to say that the monarch ruled over a territory of goodly size, containing mountains, forests, houses, vineyards, cornfields, and everything else which the neighbourhood of a mighty river could supply. For a river, mighty, indeed, in size and reputation, flowed through his kingdom, and was the principal glory of his land. The monarch had succeeded to the throne at an early age, and had reigned for long years over his people. They, poor creatures, had apparently only been created in order to minister to his comfort. Ground down by oppressive taxation, their spirits broken, their bodies subject to the will of their despotic master, their homes held only at his pleasure, and scarcely daring to call their very thoughts their own, they dragged on such a miserable existence as was permitted to them, without a hope or an idea that their condition could ever be improved by any effort of their own. But with him, their imperious lord, the case was surely different. He, one would have imagined, had everything to make him happy. Lands, vassals, money – what would he more? And yet King Fridolin sat gloomily in his ancient halls. His crown was upon his head – surmounted by his favourite crest, representing the figure of an eagle clapping its wings; his left hand rested upon the hilt of the mighty sword which he and his fathers before him had so often wielded in battle, whilst in his right hand he held a watering-pot, by means of which he tormented his Lord Chamberlain, who, having offended him, and being troubled with a bad cold, had been ordered to stand below the balcony upon which his majesty sat, whilst the royal hand let iced water fall upon his bald head. But even as he watered, King Fridolin pondered, and melancholy were his thoughts the while. Broad, indeed, were his lands, full were his coffers, obedient his vassals, but he lacked that sunshine of the heart, without which life is dull and heavy at the best. Moreover, he had no one who dared to contradict him, no one who ventured to suggest to him any alteration in his way of living, no new occupation which could relieve him from the oppressive dulness under which he suffered. So there he sat, watering and thinking and wishing for he knew not what —anything to relieve the dreary monotony of his existence. Suddenly he started up.

      "I've hit it!" he cried – which, if he referred to the Lord Chamberlain's head, he certainly had, for, as he spoke, the watering-pot fell directly upon the bald pate of that unlucky functionary.

      "I've hit it!" again cried the king – and the Chamberlain was not prepared to dispute the statement. In fact, the king gave him no time to do so, for the next moment, apparently forgetting his cause of displeasure against the high official in question, he eagerly called him up to the balcony, and bade him listen to the development of a new idea which had suddenly entered his royal brain.

      "Pompous," he cried (for such was the name of the Lord Chamberlain), "Pompous, I've thought of something!"

      "Happy the thing which has had the honour of occupying your majesty's mind," returned the ancient courtier, deeming it right to preserve honey upon his tongue, although bitter gall was in his heart, in consequence of the treatment to which he had just been exposed.

      "Don't be an ass, Pompous!" replied the king hastily. "I tell you I've thought of something. Guess what it is."

      The Lord Chamberlain drew himself up to his full height, bowed low, coughed, hemmed, and, after repeating this process several times, meekly answered that he could not tell what his gracious majesty might have been pleased to think of.

      "Tell? Why, of course not, you old noodle," said the King, whose manner of addressing his attendants was occasionally barely polite. "Who expected you to tell? I told you to guess, but since you are too stupid to do so, I may as well tell you what it is. We'll have a pig-race!"

      "A what, your majesty?" faltered out the Lord Chamberlain.

      "A pig-race, you old idiot!" roared the king into his ear. "P I G, pig, R A C E, race —pig-race. Do you hear now?"

      And the old man was obliged to own that he did; but although he heard, he hardly understood what the king could really mean. Old Pompous, however, was a thorough courtier, and having had the misfortune to offend his royal master once that morning, was far too good a judge to do so again, if he could by any possibility avoid it. He therefore put on a smiling face, declared that the idea was excellent, and pretended to enjoy it vastly, all the time wondering what could have caused the king to think of such a ridiculous project, and by what means it could ever be carried out. Whether any difficulty had suggested itself to the mind of the king, or what had put the project into his head at all, are questions which it is both useless and unnecessary to ask. It is sufficient to know that there it was, and when the despotic king of a country has a practical idea, something generally happens in consequence, and it is a fortunate thing for his people if it is nothing worse than a pig-race. Now it happened that the kingdom of Fridolin was famous for its breed of pigs. They grew to a very large size, and were much thought of by the people of that and neighbouring countries, who bred, bought, sold, and ate them to a great extent. A pig-race, however, was not a common event, nor, indeed, had one ever been heard of in the memory of the oldest inhabitant. A pig had certainly been more than once turned out, on festive occasions, with his tail soaped, and a prize given to the rustic who should succeed in securing the animal by holding on to that appendage; but this was not what the king meant. He announced his intention of giving a prize, to be run for by pigs, each pig to be ridden by a boy under fourteen years of age, and fixed that day month for the event. Pompous received the order with obsequious readiness, and was too wise to raise any objection to the project, or express any doubt as to the possibility of carrying it out. Next morning, accordingly, it was made known to the world, and the whole kingdom was agitated from one end to the other. It was not a great racing country; but, if it had been, a race between pigs, and pigs, too, ridden by boys, would have been a novelty, and the publication of the king's intentions caused a great deal of surprise and excitement. The race was to take place upon a common in the immediate neighbourhood of the capital city of the kingdom, and the course, which was to be half a mile long, was settled and marked out long before the day arrived on which the event was to come off. A great number of competitors had entered for the race, and it was calculated that at least twenty would start. Some complaints there had been of the shortness of time allowed for training either boys or pigs; but that was not a country in which many complaints were made against anything the king did, as those who made them generally had their heads cut off with a promptitude which had a signal effect in preventing others from following their example. So there was very little said against the arrangements which had been made, and people only talked СКАЧАТЬ