Connor Magan's Luck and Other Stories Part 7

Little sun-hat and empty porte-monnaie put away, quietly she seated herself on the sofa opposite me, with two little fat feet hanging dangling down. Dignity kept her silent, and amus.e.m.e.nt mingled with pity made me so.

This state of things lasted for some moments, while the dainties were diminis.h.i.+ng from my plate. Every mouthful was wistfully watched. At length with grave old-fas.h.i.+oned face, she asked, "Are you sorry for beggar chil'en, Aunty?"

"Very sorry indeed," I replied with composure.

Then with a tremor in the voice:

"Aunty, if you saw a little child in the street a starvin' to death for some bread and b.u.t.ter wif jelly on it, wouldn't you give her some?"

I shook my head. Another pause, and then with little fat hands clasped, and voice full of sobs, poor little Zay cried out, "Oh, Aunty, if you saw a little girl starvin' to death for sponge cake, wouldn't you give her some?"

"How could I, Zay, if the little girl's mamma had forbidden it?"

All her fort.i.tude was gone. She burst into tears. She laid her head down on the sofa and sobbed.

"Oh, oh! and they had frica.s.seed chicken, with Mary's nice toast under it; and you have sponge-cake and wine-jelly; and I haven't nuffin; there isn't one single b.u.t.ter cracker in the house!"

At this climax of misery the house resounded with her lamentations, in which my tears would mingle; but fortunately the dear grand-parents soon appeared to comfort their darling. And so, somehow, up on grandpa's lap it became easier to see how naughty it was to annoy good old Mary, and how ungrateful it was to wish to run away from home. And pardons were begged and kisses were given, and the three little silver pieces crept back into the tiny porte-monnaie, and Zay had some of Mary's nice toast with lots of gravy, and a drum-stick and a wish-bone.

Zay is a young lady now, and I presume when she reads this story she will pout and blush, and the more because it is every word true.

THE LEGEND OF THE SALT SEA.

Once upon a time there lived by the great sea two brothers, named Klaus and Korg; the elder inheriting the rich estates of his ancestors; the younger a woodchopper, and so poor that it was ofttimes a difficult task for him to provide bread for his wife and little children.

Hard as life often seems it may be even harder; and so bitterly realized Korg when, nigh on to one merry Christmas-tide, an accident deprived him of his strong right hand, thereby cutting off forever his slender means of livelihood. There was but one resource, and, with crushed spirit Korg betook himself to his elder brother to crave some mercy for his starving babes.

Klaus was a harsh man, with love only for his yellow gold. He frowned impatiently when Korg interrupted his selfish dreams, and, for answer to his pitiful story, threw him a loaf of bread and a pudding, bidding him begone and be satisfied. And Korg went forth with a heavy heart, his faint hope dead.

His homeward path followed the raging sea. The night was dark and stormy, the waves bellowed and lashed at the sh.o.r.e like an army of infuriated beasts; but Korg heeded it not, only clutched his bread and pudding, and walked on with a white despairing face. Suddenly, as he emerged from a thick bit of woods, he became conscious of a strange light encircling him, and halting, quite terrified at the phenomenon, he beheld a little old man, snow-haired and bearded, standing plump in the path before him.

"You seem in trouble, friend," he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed, with a chuckle. "Something twists in your world, I trow."

Korg was not slow to recognize a _geist_; his knees shook, and he dared not utter a word. The elf looked down upon him half displeased, yet chuckling merrily withal.

"You have nothing to fear from me," he continued, sweetly. "I am the guardian of the honest poor. This night I come to reveal to you a secret, which, rightly used, will bestow upon you riches, life-lasting and unlimited."

Korg, bewildered, could not yet yield simple faith. He clutched desperately his bread and pudding. He found no joyful words.

The little man frowned scathingly on the gift of Klaus, then burst into a scornful laugh.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE WONDER-MILL GRINDS.]

"It is always thus, friend, with the money elves; they deal n.i.g.g.ardly, even at the full. But, care not, since this meagre chip will prove to you a barter for millions. Follow me! The great estates to Klaus; the treasures of the sea Korg shall know, to-night!" And, with a hand-wave, the elf led the way over the rough cliffs, Korg mutely following.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE GEIST.]

He paused at the base of a hillock, shaped like a horseshoe--a spot which Korg knew well--a place of rocks, reefs, and general ill-report.

"The time is favorable," muttered the little man, "my children are hungry, to-night." And, turning to Korg, he continued: "Take the gift of Klaus and go down into the sea. A crowd will swarm upon you, as persistent and voracious as any in this upper world. Ask for the _wonder-mill_, and sacrifice your treasures only in its exchange. I will await you here."

A spell immediately enwrapped the senses of Korg. Calm and fearless, he descended into the deep, floating dreamily downward to the glittering caves from whence, exactly as the elf had depicted, swarmed forth troops of mermen and mermaids, with eyes and arms voraciously extended towards the bread and the pudding he held tightly clutched to his breast. But Korg, spurred on by the elf, resisted them all, nor parted with a single crumb till the wonder-mill lay safe in his embrace. The little man stood waiting on the brink.

"I dedicate this to the honest poor," he said, softly. "Yes, Korg, it is yours. Ask of it what you will, and it shall never fail you--gold, silver, hundreds of loaves and puddings. But--" and here the little man paused, a shudder quivered through his frame, and he continued, solemnly--"remember, that by no hand but yours can it be controlled.

Guard it carefully, for the day you part with it your portion shall be ashes, and _mine_ annihilation."

When Korg dared lift his eyes the elf had disappeared.

Rahel sat at home with the children, weeping. She knew well the heart of her brother Klaus, and how vain would be Korg's last effort to save them from starvation. A step sounded on the path without. Rahel and the babes stopped to listen. It was not dull and heavy as they had expected, but blithe as the jingle of sleigh-bells, and, in a second, Korg burst in upon them, dimpling all over with merry laughter. Rahel regarded him, amazed.

"You bring no bread to our starving babes, and yet you laugh," she said.

"Oh, Korg! Korg! trouble has made you mad!"

Still chuckling he slipped the wonder-mill from beneath his coat and said, softly:

"Hush, Rahel! A _geist_ has been with me to-night. I have brought endless fortune from the depths of the sea." And, plump in the eyes of his astonished wife, he began turning out loaves and puddings with such a gusto that the room was soon filled, and Rahel fain to implore him to cease his elfish work.

From that night, just as the little man had said, riches unlimited came to the house of Korg. No treasure too great for the mill to produce; and, though the woodchopper strove hard at secrecy, its fame spread far and wide from the mountains back to the sea, and folks flocked by thousands to view the magic engine that Korg had fished up from the the ocean's depths. And though, always good humoredly, he tested its powers and loaded his guests with princely gifts, yet he rested night after night more uneasily upon his pillow, remembering the solemn words of the _geist_:

"The day you part with it your portion shall be ashes, and _mine_ annihilation."

One day, after the s.p.a.ce of a year, there came to the woodchopper's door a captain from far-off lands.

"I am here," he said, "to see the famous wonder-mill that blesses the house of Korg."

There was a simplicity about the old tar that completely dismantled Korg. With less than ordinary caution he brought forth the mill, and displayed it, in all its phases, before his astonished guest.

"It is a clever trickster," finally he quoth. "I wonder if it could grind so common a thing as salt."

Korg chuckled contemptuously, and speedily spurted right and left such a briny shower as made the old tar blink spasmodically and walk hurriedly away.

But, alas! that night Korg missed the mill from his side; and when, pale and s.h.i.+vering, he sought the golden treasures hid 'neath the floor, he found only an ashy heap, heard only the mournful words:

"The mermen and mermaids are dead. The _geists_ have ceased to reign."

Far out on the blue bosom of the sea the jolly captain rode, shouting uproariously over the treasure he had secured.

"Precious wonder-mill," he sang, "I will try thee in all thy ways. First salt for savor, then ducks for food, and gold to the end of my days."

And he started the tiny wheels, and clapped his hands frantically at its ready compliance to his will.