“She must have a change. Take her away into the country as soon as possible.”
“And very good advice it was, too,” remarked the Nurse to one of the maids; “for I feel as if I needed a change myself.”
When she reported the matter to Mrs. Muffet the mother answered,
“Very well; I will see Mr. Muffet and have him write out a cheque.”
And so it was that a week later Little Miss Muffet went to the country, or rather to a small town where there was a summer hotel that had been highly recommended to Nurse Holloweg; and with her went the string of maids and a wagon-load of boxes and trunks.
The morning after their arrival the little girl asked to go out upon the lawn.
“Well,” replied Nurse Holloweg, “Sarah can take you out for half an hour. But remember you are not to run and get heated, for that will ruin your complexion; and you must not speak to any of the common children you meet, for your mother would object; and you must not get your shoes dusty nor your dress soiled, nor disobey Sarah in any way.”
Little Miss Muffet went out in a very angry and sulky mood.
“What ‘s the use of being in the country,” she thought, “if I must act just as I did in the city? I hate Nurse Holloweg, and Sarah, and all the rest of them! and if I dared I ‘d just — just run away.”
Indeed, a few minutes later, when Sarah had fallen asleep upon a bench under a big shade tree, Miss Muffet decided she would really run away for once in her life, and see how it seemed.
There was a pretty lane near by, running between shady trees far out into the country, and, stealing softly away from Sarah’s side, the little girl ran as fast as she could go, and never stopped until she was all out of breath.
While she rested and wondered what she could do next, a farmer came along, driving an empty cart.
“I ‘ll catch on behind,” said Miss Muffet, gleefully, “just as I ‘ve seen the boys do in the city. Won’t it be fun!”
So she ran and caught on the end of the cart, and actually climbed into it, falling all in a heap upon the straw that lay upon the bottom. But it did n’t hurt her at all, and the next minute the farmer whipped up his horses, and they went trotting along the lane, carrying Miss Muffet farther and farther away from hated Nurse Holloweg and the dreadful maids.
She looked around upon the green fields and the waving grain, and drew in deep breaths of the fresh country air, and was happy for almost the first time in her little life. By and by she lay back upon the straw and fell asleep; and the farmer, who did not know she was in his cart, drove on for many miles, until at last he stopped at a small wooden farmhouse, and jumped to the ground.
A woman came to the door to greet him, and he said to her.
“Well, mother, we ‘re home again, you see.”
“So I see,” she answered; “but did you bring my groceries?”
“Yes,” he replied, as he began to unharness the horses; “they are in the cart.”
So she came to the cart and looked within, and saw Miss Muffet, who was still asleep.
“Where did you get the little girl?” asked the farmer’s wife, in surprise.
“What little girl?” asked he.
“The one in the cart.”
He came to the cart and looked in, and was as surprised as his wife.
“She must have climbed into the cart when I left the town,” he said; “but waken her, wife, and we will hear what she has to say.”
So the farmer’s wife shook the girl by the arm, and Miss Muffet sat up in the cart and rubbed her eyes and wondered where she was.
“How came you in my cart?” asked the farmer.
“I caught on behind, and climbed in,” answered the girl.
“What is your name, and where do you live?” enquired the farmer’s wife.
“My name is Miss Muffet, and I live in a big city, — but where, I do not know.”
And that was all she could tell them, so the woman said at last,
“We must keep her till some one comes to claim her, and she can earn her living by helping me make the cheeses.”
“That will be nice,” said Miss Muffet, with a laugh, “for Nurse Holloweg never lets me do anything, and I should like to help somebody do something.”
So they led her into the house, where the farmer’s wife wondered at the fine texture of her dress and admired the golden chain that hung around her neck.
“Some one will surely come for her,” the woman said to her husband, “for she is richly dressed and must belong to a family of some importance.”
Nevertheless, when they had eaten dinner, for which Little Miss Muffet had a wonderful appetite, the woman took her into the dairy and told her how she could assist her in curdling the milk and preparing it for the cheese-press.
“Why, it ‘s really fun to work,” said the girl, at first, “and I should like to live here always. I do hope Nurse Holloweg will not find me.”
After a time, however, she grew weary, and wanted to rest; but the woman had not yet finished her cheese-making, so she bade the girl keep at her tasks.
“It ‘s time enough to rest when the work is done,” she said, “and if you stay with me you must earn your board. No one is allowed to idle in this house.”
So Little Miss Muffet, though she felt like crying and was very tired, kept at her work until at length all was finished and the last cheese was in the press.
“Now,” said the farmer’s wife, “since you have worked so well I shall give you a dish of curds and whey for your supper, and you may go out into the orchard and eat it under the shade of the trees.”
Little Miss Muffet had never eaten curds and whey before, and did not know how they tasted; but she was very hungry, so she took the dish and went into the orchard.
She first looked around for a place to sit down, and finally discovered a little grassy mound, which is called a tuffet in the country, and seated herself upon it. Then she tasted the curds and whey and found them very good.
But while she was eating she chanced to look down at her feet, and there was a great black spider coming straight towards her. The girl had never seen such an enormous and hideous-looking spider before, and she was so frightened that she gave a scream and tipped backward off the tuffet, spilling the curds and whey all over her dress as she did so. This frightened her more than ever, and as soon as she could get upon her feet she scampered away to the farmhouse as fast as she could go, crying bitterly as she ran.
The farmer’s wife tried to comfort her, and Miss Muffet, between her sobs, said she had seen “the awfulest, biggest, blackest spider in all the world!”
This made the woman laugh, for she was not afraid of spiders.
Soon after they heard a sound of wheels upon the road and a handsome carriage came dashing up to the gate.
“Has anyone seen a little girl who has run away?” asked Nurse
Holloweg, leaning out of the carriage.
“Oh, yes” answered Little Miss Muffet; “here I am, Nurse. And she ran out and jumped into the carriage, for she was very glad to get back again to those who would care for her and not ask her to work making cheeses.”
When they were driving back to the town the Nurse said,
“You must promise me, Miss Muffet, never to run away again. You have frightened me nearly into hysterics, and had you been lost your mother would have been quite disappointed.”
The little girl was silent for a time; then she answered,
“I will promise not to run away if you will let me play as other children do. But if you do not allow me to run and romp and dig in the ground, I shall keep running away, no matter how many horrid spiders come to frighten me!”
And Nurse Holloweg, who had really been much alarmed at so nearly losing her precious charge, thought it wise to agree to Miss Muffet’s terms.
She kept her word, too, and when Little Miss Muffet went back to her home in the city her cheeks were as red as roses and her eyes sparkled with health. And she grew, in time
, to be a beautiful young lady, and as healthy and robust as she was beautiful. Seeing which, the doctor put an extra large fee in his bill for advising that the little girl be taken to the country; and Mr. Muffet paid it without a word of protest.
Even after Miss Muffet grew up and was married she never forgot the day that she ran away, nor the curds and whey she ate for her supper, nor the great spider that frightened her away from the tuffet.
Three Wise Men of Gotham
Three Wise Men of Gotham
Went to sea in a bowl.
If the bowl had been stronger
My tale had been longer.
There lived in the great city of Gotham, over against the north gate, a man who possessed a very wise aspect, but very little else. He was tall and lean, and had a fine large head, bald and smooth upon the top, with a circle of white hair behind the ears. His beard was pure white, and reached to his waist; his eyes were small, dark, and so piercing that they seemed to read your every thought. His eyebrows were very heavy, and as white as his beard. He dressed in a long black mantle with a girdle corded about the middle, and he walked slowly and majestically, and talked no more than he was obliged to.
When this man passed down the street with his stately tread the people all removed their hats and bowed to him with great reverence, saying within themselves,
“He is very wise, this great man; he is a second Socrates.”
And soon this was the only name he was called by, and everyone in
Gotham knew him as “Socrates.”
To be sure this man was not really wise. Had they realized the truth, not one he met but knew more than Socrates; but his venerable appearance certainly betokened great wisdom, and no one appeared to remember that things are seldom what they seem.
Socrates would strut about with bowed head and arms clasped behind him, and think:
“My! how wise these people take me to be. Everyone admires my beautiful beard. When I look into their faces they drop their eyes. I am, in truth, a wonderful man, and if I say nothing they will believe I am full of wisdom. Ah, here comes the schoolmaster; I shall frown heavily and refuse to notice him, for then he also will be deceived and think I am pondering upon matters of great import.” Really, the one wise thing about this Socrates was his ability to keep quiet. For, saying no word, it was impossible he should betray his ignorance.
Singularly enough, over by the south gate of Gotham there dwelt another wise man, of much the same appearance as Socrates. His white beard was a trifle longer and he had lost his left eye, which was covered by a black patch; but in all other ways his person betokened as much wisdom as that of the other.
He did not walk about, being lazy and preferring his ease; but he lived in a little cottage with one room, where the people came to consult him in regard to all their troubles.
They had named him Sophocles, and when anything went wrong they would say,
“Let us go and consult Sophocles, for he is very wise and will tell us what to do.”
Thus one man, who had sued his neighbor in the courts, became worried over the outcome of the matter and came to consult the wise man.
“Tell me, O Sophocles!” he said, as he dropped a piece of money upon a plate, “shall I win my lawsuit or not?”
Sophocles appeared to ponder for a moment, and then he looked at his questioner with his one eye and replied,
“If it is not decided against you, you will certainly win your suit.”
And the man was content, and went away feeling that his money had been well invested.
At another time the mother of a pair of baby twins came to him in great trouble.
“O most wise Sophocles!” she said, “I am in despair! For my little twin girls are just alike, and I have lost the ribbon that I placed on one that I might be able to tell them apart. Therefore I cannot determine which is Amelia and which is Ophelia, and as the priest has christened them by their proper names it would be a sin to call them wrongly.”
“Cannot the priest tell?” asked the wise man.
“No one can tell,” answered the woman; “neither the priest nor their father nor myself, for they are just alike. And they are yet too young to remember their own names. Therefore your great wisdom is our only resource.”
“Bring them to me,” commanded Sophocles.
And when they were brought he looked at them attentively and said,
“This is Ophelia and this Amelia. Now tie a red ribbon about Ophelia’s wrist and put a blue ribbon on Amelia, and so long as they wear them you will not be troubled to tell them apart.”
Everyone marvelled greatly that Sophocles should know the children better than their own mother, but he said to himself,
“Since no no [both nos in original] one can prove that I am wrong I am sure to be right;” and thus he maintained his reputation for wisdom.
In a little side street near the center of Gotham lived an old woman named Deborah Smith. Her home was a wretched little hut, for she was poor, and supported herself and her husband by begging in the streets. Her husband was a lazy, short, fat old man, who lay upon a ragged blanket in the hut all day and refused to work.
“One beggar in the family is enough,” he used to grumble, when his wife upbraided him, “and I am really too tired to work. So let me alone, my Deborah, as I am about to take another nap.”
Nothing she could say would arouse him to action, and she finally allowed him to do as he pleased.
But one day she met Socrates walking in the street, and after watching him for a time made up her mind he was nothing more than a fool. Other people certainly thought him wise, but she was a shrewd old woman, and could see well enough that he merely looked wise. The next day she went to the south of the city to beg, and there she heard of Sophocles. When the people repeated his wise sayings she thought:
“Here is another fool, for anyone could tell as much as this man does.”
Still, she went to see Sophocles, and, dropping a penny upon his plate, she asked,
“Tell me, O wise man, how shall I drive my husband to work?”
“By starving him,” answered Sophocles; “if you refuse to feed him he must find a way to feed himself.”
“That is true,” she thought, as she went away; “but any fool could have told me that. This wise man is a fraud; even my husband is as wise as he.”
Then she stopped short and slapped her hand against her forehead.
“Why,” she cried, “I will make a Wise Man of Perry, my husband, and then he can earn money without working!”
So she went to her husband and said,
“Get up, Perry Smith, and wash yourself; for I am going to make a Wise
Man of you.”
“I won’t,” he replied.
“You will,” she declared, “for it is the easiest way to earn money I have ever discovered.”
Then she took a stick and beat him so fiercely that at last he got up, and agreed to do as she said.
She washed his long beard until it was as white as snow, and she shaved his head to make him look bald and venerable. Then she brought him a flowing black robe with a girdle at the middle; and when he was dressed, he looked fully as wise as either Socrates or Sophocles.
“You must have a new name,” she said, “for no one will ever believe that Perry Smith is a Wise Man. So I shall hereafter call you Pericles, the Wisest Man of Gotham!”
She then led him into the streets, and to all they met she declared,
“This is Pericles, the wisest man in the world.”
“What does he know?” they asked.
“Everything, and much else,” she replied.
Then came a carter, and putting a piece of money in the hand of
Pericles, he enquired,
“Pray tell me of your wisdom what is wrong with my mare?”
“How should I know?” asked Pericles.
“I thought you knew everything,” returned the carter, in surprise.
“I do,” declared Pericles; �
��but you have not told me what her symptoms are.”
“She refuses to eat anything,” said the carter.
“Then she is not hungry,” returned Pericles; “for neither man nor beast will refuse to eat when hungry.”
And the people who heard him whispered together and said,
“Surely this is a wise man, for he has told the carter what is wrong with his mare.”
After a few days the fame of Pericles’ sayings came to the ears of both Socrates and Sophocles, and they resolved to see him, for each feared he would prove more wise than they were, knowing themselves to be arrant humbugs. So one morning the three wise men met together outside the hut of Pericles, and they sat themselves down upon stools, facing each other, while a great crowd of people gathered around to hear the words of wisdom that dropped from their lips.
But for a time all three were silent, and regarded one another anxiously, for each feared he might betray himself.
Finally Sophocles winked his one eye at the others and said, in a grave voice,
“The earth is flat; for, were it round, as some fools say, all the people would slide off the surface.”
Then the people, who had listened eagerly, clapped their hands together and murmured,
“Sophocles is wisest of all. What he says is truth.”
This provoked Socrates greatly, for he felt his reputation was in danger; so he said with a frown,
“The world is shallow, like a dish; were it flat the water would all run over the edges, and we should have no oceans.”
Then the people applauded more loudly than before, and cried,
“Socrates is right the is wisest of all.”
Pericles, at this, shifted uneasily upon his stool, for he knew he must dispute the matter boldly or his fame would depart from him. Therefore he said, with grave deliberation,
“You are wrong, my friends. The world is hollow, like the shell of a cocoanut, and we are all inside the shell. The sky above us is the roof, and if you go out upon the ocean you will come to a place, no matter in which direction you go, where the sky and the water meet. I know this is true, for I have been to sea.”
The people cheered loudly at this, and said,
Complete Works of L. Frank Baum Page 823
