Section 14

142 THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER.
knew how badly these unkind people, and their un- kind children and curs, were in the habit of behay- ing) would go miles and miles out of their way, rather than try to pass through the village again.
What made the matter seem worse, if possible, was that when rich persons came in their chariots, or rid- ing on beautiful horses, with their servants in rich liv- eries attending on them, nobody could be more civil and obsequious than the inhabitants of the village. They would take off their hats, and make the hum- blest bows you ever saw. If the children were rude, they were pretty certain to get their ears boxed; and as for the dogs, if a single cur in the pack presumed to yelp, his master instantly beat him with a club, and tied him up without any supper. This would have been all very well, only it proved that the villagers cared much about the money that a stranger had in his pocket, and nothing whatever for the human soul, which lives equally in the beggar and the prince.
So now you can understand why old Philemon spoke so sorrowfully, when he heard the shouts of the children and the barking of the dogs, at the farther extremity of the village street. There was a confused ding which lasted a good while, and seemed to pass quite through the breadth of the valley.
“JT never heard the dogs so loud!”.observed the good old man.
“Nor the children so rude!” answered his good old wile.
They sat shaking their heads, one to another, while the noise came nearer and nearer; until, at the foot of the little eminence on which their cottage stood, they saw two travellers approaching on foot. Close behind them came the fierce dogs, snarling at their very heels,
THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER. 1438
A little farther off, ran a crowd of children, who sent up shrill cries, and flung stones at the two strangers, with all their might. Once or twice, the younger of the two men (he was a slender and very active figure) turned about and drove back the dogs with a staff _Which he carried in his hand. His companion, who “was a very tall person, walked calmly along, as if dis- daining to notice either the naughty iden or the pack ef curs, whose manners the children seemed to imitate.
Both of the travellers were very humbly clad, and looked as if they might not have money enough in their pockets to pay for a night’s lodging. And this, I am afraid, was the reason why the villagers had al- lowed their children and dogs to treat them so rudely.
“ Come, wife,” said Philemon to Baucis, “ let us go and meet these poor people. No doubt, they feel al- most too heavy-hearted to climb the hill.”
“Go you and meet them,” answered Baucis, “ while I make haste within doors, and see whether we can get them anything for supper. A comfortable bowl of bread and milk would do wonders towards raising their spirits.”
Accordingly, she hastened into the cottage. Phile- mon, on his part, went forward, and extended his hand with so hospitable an aspect that there was no need of saying what nevertheless he did say, in the heartiest tone imaginable, —
“* Welcome, strangers! welcome!”
“Thank you!” replied the younger of the two, in a lively kind of way, notwithstanding his weariness and trouble. “This is quite another greeting than we have met with yonder in the village. Pray, why do you live in such a bad neighborhood?”
144 THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER.
“ Ah!” observed old Philemon, with a quiet and benign smile, “ Providence put me here, I hope, among other reasons, in order that I may make you what amends I can for the inhospitality of my neighbors.”
“ Well said, old father!” cried the traveller, laugh- ing; ‘and, if the truth must be told, my companion and myself need some amends. Those children (the little rascals!) have bespattered us finely with their mud-balls ; and one of the curs has torn my cloak, which was ragged enough already. But I took him across the muzzle with my staff; and I think you may have heard him yelp, even thus far off.”
Philemon was glad to see him in such good spirits ; nor, indeed, would you have fancied, by the traveller’s look and manner, that he was weary with a long day’s journey, besides being disheartened by rough treat- ment at the end of it. He was dressed in rather an odd way, with a sort of cap on his head, the brim of which stuck out over both ears. Though it was a summer evening, he wore a cloak, which he kept wrapt closely about him, perhaps because his under garments were shabby. Philemon perceived, too, that he had on a singular pair of shoes; but, as it was now grow- ing dusk, and as the old man’s eyesight was none the sharpest, he could not precisely tell in what the strangeness consisted. One thing, certainly, seemed queer. The traveller was so wonderfully light and active, that it appeared as if his feet sometimes rose from the ground of their own accord, or could only be kept down by an effort.
“T used to be light-footed, in my youth,” said Phile- mon to the traveller. ‘“ But I always found my feet grow heavier towards nightfall.”
“There is nothing like a good staff to help one
THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER. 145
along,” answered the stranger; “and I happen to have an excellent one, as you see.”
This staff, in fact, was the oddest-looking staff that Philemon had ever beheld. It was made of olive- wood, and had something like a little pair of wings near the top. Two snakes, carved in the wood, were represented as twining themselves about the staff, and were so very skilfully executed that old Philemon (whose eyes, you know, were getting rather dim) al- most thought them alive, and that he could see them wriggling and twisting.
‘“* A curious piece of work, sure enough!” said he. “ A staff with wings! It would be an excellent kind of stick for a little boy to ride astride of |”
By this time, Philemon and his two guests had reached the cottage door.
“ Friends,” said the old man, “sit down and rest yourselves here on this bench. My good wife Baucis has gone to see what you can have for supper. We are poor folks; but you shall be welcome to whatever we have in the cupboard.”
The younger stranger threw himself carelessly on the bench, letting his staff fall, as he did so. And here happened something rather marvellous, though trifling enough, too. The staff seemed to get up from the ground of its own accord, and, spreading its little pair of wings, it half hopped, half flew, and leaned itself against the wall of the cottage. There it stood quite still, except that the snakes continued to wriggle. But, in my private opinion, old Philemon’s eyesight had been playing him tricks again.
Before he could ask any questions, the elder stran- ger drew his attention from the wonderful stati, by
speaking to him.
146 THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER.
“‘ Was there not,” asked the stranger, in a remarka bly deep tone of voice, “a lake, in very ancient times, covering the spot where now stands yonder village ?”
“Not in my day, friend,” answered Philemon ; “and yet I am an old man, as you see. ‘There were always the fields and meadows, just as they are now, and the old trees, and the little stream murmuring through the midst of the valley. My father, nor his father before him, ever saw it otherwise, so far as I know; and doubtless it will still be the same, when old Philemon shall be gone and forgotten !”
“That is more than can be safely foretold,” ob- served the stranger; and there was something very stern in his deep voice. He shook his head, too, so that his dark and heavy curls were shaken with the movement. “Since the inhabitants of yonder village have forgotten the affections and sympathies of their nature, it were better that the lake should be rippling over their dwellings again !”
The traveller looked so stern, that Philemon was really almost frightened; the more so, that, at his frown, the twilight seemed suddenly to grow darker, and that, when he shook his head, there was a roll as of thunder in the air.
But, in a moment afterwards, the stranger’s face es came so kindly and mild, that the old man quite for- got his terror. Nevertheless, he could not help feeling that this elder traveller must be no ordinary person- age, although he happened now to be attired so hum- bly and to be journeying on foot. Not that Philemon fancied him a prince in disguise, or any character of that sort ; but rather some exceedingly wise man, who went about the world in this poor garb, despising | wealth and all worldly objects, and seeking everywhere —
THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER. 147
to add a mite to his wisdom. This idea appeared the more probable, because, when Philemon raised his eyes to the stranger’s face, he seemed to see more thought there, in one look, than he could have studied out in a lifetime.
While Baucis was gettiny the supper, the travellers both began to talk very sociably with Philemon. The younger, indeed, was extremely loquacious, and made such shrewd and witty remarks, that the good old man continually burst out a-laughing, and pronounced him the merriest fellow whom he had seen for many a day.
“Pray, my young friend,” said he, as they grew familiar together, ‘“‘ what may I call your name?”
“ Why, I am very nimble, as you see,” answered the traveller. ‘So, if you call me Quicksilver, the name will fit tolerably well.”
* Quicksilver ? Quicksilver?” repeated Philemon, looking in the traveller’s face, to see if he were mak- ing fun of him. “It is. avery odd name! And your companion there? Has he as strange a one?”
“ You must ask the thunder to tell it you! ” replied Quicksilver, putting on a mysterious look. ‘No other voice is loud enough.”
This remark, whether it were serious or in jest, might have caused Philemon to conceive a very great awe of the elder stranger, if, on venturing to gaze at him, he had not beheld so much beneficence in his visage. But, undoubtedly, here was the grandest fig- ure that ever sat so humbly beside a cottage door. When the stranger conversed, it was with gravity, and in such a way that Philemon felt irresistibly moved to tell him everything which he had most at heart. This is always the feeling that people have, when they meet with any one wise enough to comprehend all their
good and evil. and to desnise not a tittle of it.
148 THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER.
But Philemon, simple and kind-hearted old man that he was, had not many secrets to disclose. He talked, however, quite garrulously, about the events of his past life, in the whole course of which he had
never been a score of miles from this very spot. His . ©
wife Baucis and himself had dwelt in the cottage from their youth upward, earning their bread by honest la- bor, always poor, but still contented. He told what excellent butter and cheese Baucis made, and how nice were the vegetables which he raised in his garden. He said, too, that, because they loved one another so very much, it was the wish of both that death might not separate them, but that they should die, as they had lived, together.
As the stranger listened, a smile beamed over his countenance, and made its expression as sweet as it was grand.
“ You are a good old man,” said he to Philemon, “and you have a good old wife to be your helpmeet, It is fit that your wish be granted.”
And it seemed to Piglanas just then, as if the sun- set clouds threw up a bright flash from the west, and kindled a sudden light in the sky.
Baucis had now got supper ready, and, coming to the door, began to make apologies for the poor fare which she was forced to set before her guests.
“‘ Had we known you were coming,” said she, “my good man and myself would have gone without a mor- sel, rather than you should lack a better supper. But I took the most part of to-day’s milk to make cheese ; and our last loaf is already half eaten. Ah me! I never feel the sorrow of hele poor, save when a poor traveller knocks at our door.”
“All will be very well: do not trouble yourself,
THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER. 149
good dame,” replied the elder stranger, kindly. “An honest, hearty welcome to a guest works miracles with the fare, and is capable of turning the coarsest food to nectar and ambrosia.”
“A welcome you shall have,” cried Baucis, “and likewise a little honey that we happen to have left, and a bunch of purple grapes besides.”
“ Why, Mother Baucis, it is a feast!’ exclaimed Quicksilver, laughing, “an absolute feast! and you shall see how bravely I will play my part at it! I think I never felt hungrier in my life.”
“Mercy on us!” whispered Baucis to her husband. “Tf the young man has such a terrible appetite, I am afraid there will not be half enough supper!”
They all went into the cottage.
And now, my little auditors, shall I tell you some- thing that will make you open your eyes very wide ? It is really one of the oddest circumstances in the whole story. Quicksilver’s staff, you recollect, had set itself up against the wall of the cottage. Well; when its master entered the door, leaving this wonder- ful staff behind, what should it do but immediately spread its little wings, and go hopping and fluttering up the door steps! Tap, tap, went the staff, on the kitchen floor ; nor did it rest until it had stood itself on end, with the greatest gravity and decorum, beside Quicksilver’s chair. Old Philemon, however, as well as his wife, was so taken up in attending to their guests, that no notice was given to what the staff had been about. ‘
As Baucis had said, there was but a scanty supper
- for two hungry travellers. In the middle of the table was the remnant of a brown loaf, with a piece of _ cheese on one side of it, and a dish of honeycomb on
150 THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER.
the other. There was a pretty good bunch of grapes for each of the guests. A moderately sized earthen pitcher, nearly full of milk, stood at a corner of the board; and when Baucis had filled two bowls, and set them before the strangers, only a little milk remained in the bottom of the pitcher. Alas! it is a very sad business, when a bountiful heart finds itself pimched and squeezed among narrow circumstances. Poor Baucis kept wishing that she might starve for a week to come, if it were possible, by so doing, to provide these hungry folks a more plentiful supper.
And, since the supper was so exceedingly small, she could not help wishing that their appetites had not been quite so large. Why, at their very first sitting down, the travellers both drank off all the milk in their two bowls, at a draught.
“A little more milk, kind Mother Baucis, if you please,” said Quicksilver. “The day has been hot, and I am very much athirst.”
“ Now, my dear people,” answered Baucis, in great confusion, “I am so sorry and ashamed! But the truth is, there is hardly a drop more milk in the pitcher. O husband! husband! why did n’t we go without our supper?”
“ Why, it appears to me,” cried Quicksilver, start- ing up from table and taking the pitcher by the han- dle, “it really appears to me that matters are not quite so bad as you represent them. Here is certainly more milk in the pitcher.”
So saying, and to the vast astonishment of Baucis, he proceeded to fill, not only his own bowl, but his companion’s likewise, from the pitcher, that was sup- posed to be almost empty. The good woman could scarcely believe her eyes. She had certainly poured.
THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER. 151
out nearly all the milk, and had peeped in afterwards, and seen the bottom of the pitcher, as she set it down upon the table.
“But I am old,” thought Baucis to herself, “and apt to be forgetful. I suppose I must have made a mistake. At all events, the pitcher cannot help being empty now, after filling the bowls twice over.”
* What excellent milk!” observed Quicksilver, after quaffing the contents of the second bowl. ‘“ Ex- cuse me, my kind hostess, but I must really ask you for a little more.”
Now Baucis had seen, as plainly as she could see anything, that Quicksilver had turned the pitcher up- side down, and consequently had poured out every drop of milk, in filling the last bowl. Of course, there could not possibly be any left. However, in order to let him know precisely how the case was, she lifted the pitcher, and made a gesture as if pouring milk into Quicksilver’s bowl, but without the remotest idea that any milk would stream forth. What was her surprise, therefore, when such an abundant cascade fell bubbling into the bowl, that it was immediately filled to the brim, and overflowed upon the table! The two snakes that were twisted about Quicksilver’s staff (but neither Baucis nor Philemon happened to observe this circumstance) stretched out their heads, and be- gan to lap up the spilt milk.