Childhood's Favorites and Fairy Stories Part 90

At this the lady said: "Valiant Conn, fighter of a hundred, the faith of the druids has come to little honor among the upright, mighty, numberless people of this land. When the righteous law shall be restored, it will seal up the lips of the false black demon; and his druids shall no longer have power to work their guileful spells."

Now the King observed, and marveled greatly, that whenever the lady was present his son never spoke one word to any one, even though they addressed him many times. And when the lady had ceased to speak, the King said: "Connla, my son, has thy mind been moved by the words of the lady?"

Connla spake then, and replied, "Father, I am very unhappy; for though I love my people beyond all, I am filled with sadness on account of this lady!"

When Connla had said this, the maiden again addressed him, and chanted these words in a very sweet voice:

"A land of youth, a land of rest, A land from sorrow free; It lies far off in the golden west, On the verge of the azure sea.

A swift canoe of crystal bright, That never met mortal view-- We shall reach the land ere fall of night, In that strong and swift canoe; We shall reach the strand Of that sunny land, From druids and demons free; The land of rest In the golden west, On the verge of the azure sea!

"A pleasant land of winding vales, bright streams, and verdurous plains, Where summer all the live-long year in changeless splendor reigns; A peaceful land of calm delight, of everlasting bloom; Old age and death we never know, no sickness, care, or gloom;

The land of youth, Of love and truth, From pain and sorrow free, The land of rest, In the golden west, On the verge of the azure sea!

"There are strange delights for mortal men in that island of the west; The sun comes down each evening in its lovely vales to rest;

And though far and dim On the ocean's rim It seems to mortal view, We shall reach its halls Ere the evening falls, In my strong and swift canoe; And evermore That verdant sh.o.r.e Our happy home shall be; The land of rest, In the golden west, On the verge of the azure sea!

"It will guard thee, gentle Connla of the flowing golden hair, It will guard thee from the druids, from the demons of the air, My crystal boat will guard thee, till we reach that western sh.o.r.e, When thou and I in joy and love shall live for evermore:

From the druid's incantation, From his black and deadly snare, From the withering imprecation Of the demon of the air,

"It will guard thee, gentle Connla of the flowing golden hair; My crystal boat shall guard thee, till we reach that silver strand Where thou shalt reign in endless joy, the King of the Fairyland!"

When the maiden had ended her chant, Connla suddenly walked away from his father's side, and sprang into the curragh, the gleaming, straight-gliding, strong, crystal canoe. The King and his people saw them afar off, and dimly moving away over the bright sea towards the sunset. They gazed sadly after them, till they lost sight of the canoe over the utmost verge; and no one can tell whither they went, for Connla was never again seen in his native land.

ITALIAN STORIES

PINOCCHIO'S ADVENTURES IN WONDERLAND[1]

BY CARLO LORENZINI

I

MASTER CHERRY FINDS A QUEER PIECE OF WOOD

THERE was once upon a time ...

"A king!" my little readers will instantly exclaim.

No, children, you are wrong. There was once upon a time a piece of wood.

This wood was not valuable; it was only a common log like those that are burnt in winter in the stoves and fireplaces to make a cheerful blaze and warm the rooms.

I cannot say how it came about, but the fact is, that one fine day this piece of wood was lying in the shop of an old carpenter of the name of Master Antonio. He was, however, called by everybody Master Cherry, on account of the end of his nose, which was always as red and polished as a ripe cherry.

No sooner had Master Cherry set his eyes on the piece of wood than his face beamed with delight; and, rubbing his hands together with satisfaction, he said softly to himself:

"This wood has come at the right moment; it will just do to make the leg of a little table."

Having said this he immediately took a sharp axe with which to remove the bark and the rough surface. Just, however, as he was going to give the first stroke he remained with his arm suspended in the air, for he heard a very small voice saying imploringly: "Do not strike me so hard!"

Picture to yourselves the astonishment of good old Master Cherry!

He turned his terrified eyes all around the room to try and discover where the little voice could possibly have come from, but he saw n.o.body! He looked under the bench--n.o.body; he looked into a cupboard that was always shut--n.o.body; he looked into a basket of shavings and sawdust--n.o.body; he even opened the door of the shop and gave a glance into the street--and still n.o.body. Who, then, could it be?

"I see how it is;" he said, laughing and scratching his wig; "evidently that little voice was all my imagination. Let us set to work again."

And taking up the axe he struck a tremendous blow on the piece of wood.

"Oh! oh! you have hurt me!" cried the same little voice dolefully.

This time Master Cherry was petrified. His eyes started out of his head with fright, his mouth remained open, and his tongue hung out almost to the end of his chin like a mask on a fountain. As soon as he had recovered the use of his speech, he began to say, stuttering and trembling with fear:

"But where on earth can that little voice have come from that said 'Oh! oh!?'... Here there is certainly not a living soul. Is it possible that this piece of wood can have learnt to cry and to lament like a child? I cannot believe it. This piece of wood here it is; a log for fuel like all others, and thrown on the fire it would about suffice to boil a saucepan of beans.... How then? Can anyone be hidden inside it? If anyone is hidden inside, so much the worse for him. I will settle him at once."

So saying he seized the poor piece of wood and commenced beating it without mercy against the walls of the room.

Then he stopped to listen if he could hear any little voice lamenting. He waited two minutes--nothing; five minutes-nothing; ten minutes--still nothing!

"I see how it is," he then said, forcing himself to laugh and pus.h.i.+ng up his wig; "evidently, the little voice that said 'Oh! oh!' was all my imagination! Let us to work again."

But all the same he was in a great fright; he tried to sing to give himself a little courage.

Putting the axe aside he took his plane to plane and polish the bit of wood; but whilst he was running it up and down he heard the same little voice say, laughing:

"Have done! you are tickling me all over!"

This time poor Master Cherry fell down as if he had been struck by lightning. When he at last opened his eyes he found himself seated on the floor.

His face was quite changed; even the end of his nose, instead of being crimson, as it was nearly always, had become blue from fright.

II

GEPPETTO PLANS A WONDERFUL PUPPET