START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PRINCE LAZYBONES AND OTHER STORIES*** E-text prepared by Curtis Weyant, Charlene Taylor, and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this file which includes the original illustrations. See 15227-h.htm or 15227-h.zip: (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/5/2/2/15227/15227-h/15227-h.htm) or (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/5/2/2/15227/15227-h.zip) THE ADVENTURES OF PRINCE LAZYBONES AND OTHER STORIES by MRS. W. J. HAYS Author of "Princess Idleways" Illustrated Harper & Brothers Publishers New York and London 1884 [Illustration: "GOOD EVENING, MY DEAR PRINCE."] CONTENTS THE ADVENTURES OF PRINCE LAZYBONES PHIL'S FAIRIES FLORIO AND FLORELLA: A CHRISTMAS FAIRY TALE BOREAS BLUSTER'S CHRISTMAS PRESENT ILLUSTRATIONS "Good-evening, my dear Prince" (Frontispiece) "Approach of the swanlike boat" "Look! There's an eagle" "Making the sturgeon useful" THE ADVENTURES OF PRINCE LAZY BONES CHAPTER I Of all the illustrious families who have shone like gems upon the earth's surface, none have been more distinguished in their way than the Lazybones family; and were I so disposed I might recount their virtues and trace their talents from a long-forgotten period. But interesting as the study might prove, it would be a difficult task, and the attention I crave for Prince Leo would be spent on his ancestors. Of princely blood and proud birth, Leo was a youth most simple-minded. He knew that much was expected of him, and that he was destined to rule; yet so easily was he satisfied that his greatest happiness was to lie all day basking in the sun or dawdling through his father's park with his dog at his heels, the heels themselves in a very down-trodden state of humility, watching with languid gaze the movements of the world about him. And the world just where he lived was very beautiful. On a fertile plain, surrounded by mountain-peaks of great height, threaded by silver streams, and so well watered that its vegetation was almost tropical, was the estate of Leo's father, Prince Morpheus Lazybones. It had been in the family for ages, and was so rich in timber and mineral resources that none of its owners had cared to cultivate the land. Timber was cut sparingly, however, because the market for it was too distant, and the minerals remained in their native beds for much the same reason. The family throve, notwithstanding, and were well supplied with all manner of delicacies, for the servants were many, and there was never a lack of corn or wine. Leo was most fair to see. To be sure, his drooping lids half concealed his azure eyes, and his golden locks sometimes hid his snowy forehead; but his smile was charming; his face had such an expression of calm satisfaction, such a patient tranquillity, that his smile was as the sudden sunshine on a placid lake. It was the smile of the family, an inherited feature, like the blue hood of a Spanish Don. And then it was given so freely: the beggar would have preferred it to be accompanied with the jingle of a coin, but as the coin never came and the smile did, he tried to think that it warmed his heart, though his wallet went empty. There were those who said a smile cost nothing, else it would not have been bestowed. It had a peculiarity of its own which these same critics also objected to--it nearly always ended in a yawn. But Leo heard none of these ill-natured remarks, and, if he had, would not have minded them any more than he did the burs which clung to his garments as he rambled through the woods. Poor fellow! he would gladly have shared his coppers with a beggar, but he had none to share. Morpheus Lazybones never seemed to think his son required anything; so long as the boy made no demands, surely nothing could be wanting, and every one knew _he_ was not equal to any exertion. For years he had lived the life of an invalid, shut up in his room most of the time, venturing from it only in the sunniest weather, and then with great caution. He had no particular malady except that he was a poet, but surely that was burden enough. To have to endure the common sights and sounds of this earth when one is composing poetry is indeed a trying and troublesome thing. So Morpheus found it, and therefore he frequently stayed in bed, and allowed his fancy to rove at its own sweet will. They lived in what had been a monastery. There had been houses and farms on the Lazybones property, but the money not being forthcoming for repairs, they had been each in turn left for another in better condition, until the monastery--what was left of it--with its solidly built walls, offered what seemed to be a permanent home. Here Morpheus lined a cell with tapestries and books, and wrote his sonnets. Here Leo slept and ate, and housed his dogs. The servants grumbled at the damp and mould, but made the chimneys roar with blazing logs, and held many a merry carousal where the old monks had prayed and fasted. The more devout ones rebuked these proceedings, and said they were enough to provoke a visit from the Evil One; but as yet the warning had no effect, as the revels went on as usual. Besides being a poet, Morpheus was conducting Leo's education. Undertaken in the common way, this might have interfered with the delicate modes of thought required for the production of poems, but the Lazybones were never without ingenuity. Morpheus so arranged matters that Leo could study without damage to his father's poems. The books were marked for a month's study, and Leo's recitations consisted of a written essay which was to comprise all the knowledge acquired in that time. Thus writing and spelling were included, and made to do duty for the higher flights of his mind. I do not tell how often Leo made his returns, neither do I mention how many papers Morpheus found no time to examine, but I may urge that Leo's out-door exercise demanded much attention, and that his father's excursions in Dream-land were equally exacting. But Leo, though he hated books, did not hate information. He knew every feathered thing by name as far as he could see it. He knew every oak and pine and fir and nut tree as a familiar friend. He knew every rivulet, every ravine, every rabbit-burrow. The streams seemed to him as melodious as the song-birds, and the winds had voices. He knew where to find the first blossom of spring and the latest of autumn, the ripest fruit and most abundant vines. He could tell just where the nests were and the number of eggs, whether of the robin or the waterfowl. He knew the sunniest bank and shadiest dell, the smoothest path, with its carpet of pine-needles and fringe of fern, or the roughest crag and darkest abyss. He could read the clouds like an open page, and predict fine weather or the coming storm. He knew where the deer couched and where they came to drink, and when the fawns would leave their mothers, and no trout was too cunning for him. But he did not know the use of a rifle. He had all sorts of lures for the creatures he wanted to tame, but no ways of killing them. For why should he kill them? There was always food enough; he was seldom hungry, and these were his friends. He liked to look them in the eyes; he liked to win them to him, soothe their fears if they had any, and then watch their pretty joy when their liberty was regained. And how could he have done this if their blood had been upon his hands? How could he have quieted the throbbing little hearts if murder had been in his own? Thus Leo spent his time, delightfully and innocently. If life were only a summer's day! But already winter was approaching. Discontent was brewing on the estate. Taxes were unpaid; tenants were grumbling at high rents; laborers were threatening and their wives complaining. Frequently, in the very midst of composing a poem, Morpheus would be called to adjust a difficulty, settle a dispute, or revise an account. This so disturbed his delicate nerves that illness, or the appearance of it, was sure to follow. He would then take to his bed, refuse all but a little spiced wine, allowing no coarse food to pass his lips, and strive to remember the beautiful words of which he had intended to make verses; but, alas! the words had flown, as well as the ideas which had suggested them, like so many giddy little butterflies. CHAPTER II The monastery had been a grand old pile in its day; it was not one simple building, but a cluster of habitations which had grown with the growth and resources of the order which founded it. Like all feudal structures it had its means of defence--its moat and drawbridge, its tower of observation, and in its heavy gates and thick walls loop-holes and embrasures for weapons. But grass grew now in the moat and birds nested in the embrasures, while Leo's dogs bounded through chapel and refectory and cloister, parts of the latter being converted into a stable. Many of the walls had tumbled in hopeless confusion, but those of the buildings yet in use had carved buttresses and mullioned windows, on which much skill had been displayed. Leo knew, or thought he knew, every nook and cranny of his home, for when it rained, or heavy fogs hung threateningly about, his rambles were confined to the various quarters of the monastery. On such days the stone floors and bare walls were very inhospitable, but he would sometimes find a new passage to loiter in or a window-ledge to loll over and look from as he watched the rain drip from the carved nose of an ugly old monk whose head adorned the water-spout. I don't know whether it ever occurred to Leo that this world is a busy one. The very persistence of the pouring rain might have suggested it, as well as the beehives down in the kitchen court, where some of his many friends were storing their winter provision, for bees as well as birds were familiar to him; but he had the true Lazybones instinct of not following a thought too far, and so he looked and lolled and yawned, wishing for fine weather, for a new lining to his ragged old coat, or soles to his slipshod shoes, but never once supposing that any effort of his own could gain them. When it was cold the kitchen was apt to be his resort. It was a long and low apartment on the ground-floor, and its wide fireplace, with stone settle beside the hooks and cranes for pots and kettles, had doubtless been as cheery a corner for the old monks to warm their toes after a foraging expedition as it was for Leo, who liked to smell the savory stews. On the day of which I write the rain had fallen incessantly, and Leo had been more than usually disturbed by it, for cold and dreary though it was, the servants had turned him out of the kitchen. They would not have him there. "Idle, worthless fellow!" said the cook; "he lolls about as a spy upon us, to repeat to the master every word he hears." This was quite untrue and unjust, for Leo rarely conversed with his father, and seldom saw him since Morpheus took his meals as well as his woes to bed with him, as he had done at the present moment. But the household was in revolt; the uneasiness from outside had crept within, and there was quarrelling among the servants. "What shall I do?" said Leo to himself. "The rain is too heavy, or I would go out in it; but I have no place to get dry when I become soaked, and I can't go to bed in the daytime, as my father does. I wonder what he'd say if I went to him? Probably this: 'You have given wings to the finest of rhymes, and spoiled the turn of an exquisite verse; now, sir, what atonement can you make for so great an injury? It's the world's loss, remember.' That's the way it always is when I disturb him. Heigh-ho! what a dull day!" "A very dull day indeed, your highness." Leo started, his yawn ending abruptly, and he turned more quickly than he had ever done in his life towards the sound which saluted him. Surely he had been alone. Who ever came to this corridor? He looked up and down its dingy length, but saw no one. He must have been mistaken. Then he listened. The wind swept wailing through its accustomed approaches; shutters and windows shook with the blast, but no footfall was to be heard. He turned to the diamond-paned lattice, and again watched the drops trickling from the nose of the water-spout. No one had spoken. Again he yawned prodigiously, but brought his jaws together with a snap which might have damaged his teeth; for, to his great surprise, a voice said, "I think I could amuse you." "And pray who are you?" asked Leo, feeling very queer, and as if he were talking to himself. "That is of little consequence, so long as I do what I have proposed," was the reply. "Very true," said Leo; "but I never before heard of a ghost in the daytime." "I am no ghost, your highness; I'd scorn to be such a useless thing." "What are you, then, and where are you?" "You will find out what I am after a while; and as to where I am, why, I am here beside you. Do you suppose you human beings have all the world to yourselves?" "Not quite, to be sure; the birds and beasts have their share. But one can see them." "So could you see me if your vision were not imperfect. How about all the living things you swallow every time you drink?" "I have heard of something of the kind, but it was too much trouble to understand it." "Poor boy! It's a pity some old ghost of a monk could not interest himself in your education; but, as I said before, ghosts are absurdly useless, except to scare people whose consciences are bad, and nothing more is needed to make me doubt their existence than the fact of your living here in what should be their stronghold, and they never raise hand or foot to help you. It's quite in keeping with their ridiculous pretensions. Believe in ghosts? No, I never did, and I never will." The voice, small and weak though it was, grew quite angry in tone, and it seemed to Leo as if it were accompanied by the stamp of a foot; but he saw nothing, not so much as a spider crawling over the stone corridor. It was very peculiar. He pinched himself to see if he was awake. Yes, wide-awake, no doubt of that; besides, he seldom dreamed--indeed, never, unless his foot had slipped in climbing a crag to peep into a nest, when the fall was sometimes repeated in his sleep. Who was this speaking to him? As if in answer to his thoughts, the voice went on: "So far from being a good-for-nothing old ghost, I am one of the founders of the S.P.C.C., a very old society--much older than people of the present day imagine." Leo was quite ashamed to be so ignorant, but he ventured to ask, "What is the S.P.C.C.?" "Is it possible you have never heard of it?" "Never," replied Leo, still feeling as if he were talking to the walls. There was a queer little gurgling "Ha! ha!" which was at once suppressed. "Well, how could you know away off in this remote region?" "I am sure I don't understand you at all," said Leo. "No, I see you don't; and it's by no means remarkable. You live so entirely alone, and are so wretchedly neglected, that it is a wonder you know anything." Leo began to be angry, but it was too much of an effort; besides, what was there to be angry at--a voice? So he remained sulkily silent until the voice resumed, in a changed tone: "I beg your highness's pardon; I quite forgot myself. I am very apt to do that when I am much interested; it is a great fault, for I appreciate fine manners. But to explain. In the faraway cities where people live like ants in an ant-hill, all crowded together, there is often much cruelty and oppression, as well as vice and poverty. Now for this state of things they have laws and punishments, means of redress; but they relate principally to grown people's affairs; so the kind-hearted ones, noticing that little children are often in need of pity and care and protection, have an association called the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children. It is as old as the hills, but they think it a modern invention. I am one of the original founders of that society, little as they know me; but human beings are _so_ vain." "Indeed!" said Leo, lazily; he was already tired of the whole matter. "Yes, vain and pretentious. Look at your father and his poems; he thinks his doggerel verses a mark of genius." "What has my father done to you that you attack him so rudely?" asked Leo, angrily. "Ah! you are aroused at last. I am glad. What has your father _not_ done, you had better ask. But I acknowledge that I am rude, and I won't say more than just this: Your father has failed to prepare you for your duties. Trouble is coming, and how are you to meet it?" "Don't know, and don't care," came out with characteristic Lazybones indifference. "Ah! my dear Prince, do not speak so; it is quite time you knew and cared. Do you study geography?" "Sometimes." "All surface work, I suppose?" "Probably." "Now my plan of study comprehends an interior view of the earth's formation." Leo gave a tremendous yawn, and said, "Oh, please don't bother any more; I am awfully tired." "So I should think. Well, do you want to be amused?" "No; I don't want anything." "Come with me, then." "Where?" "No matter where; just do as I bid you." "How can I, when I don't even see you?" "True. It will be necessary to anoint your eyes; shall I do it?" "Just as you please." Leo felt a little pressure forcing down his eyelids, and the pouring of a drop of cool liquid on each. When he opened his eyes again there stood before him the quaintest, queerest being he had ever beheld. CHAPTER III Leo had heard of kobolds and gnomes and elves, but in all his wanderings over the Lazybones estate in the brightness of noon, the dewy dawn, or dusky eve, or later when the moon bathed every shrub in silver, he had never so much as caught a glimpse of fairy folk. Here, however, was a real elf--a most peculiar person. He was extremely small, thin, and wiry, about two and a half inches high, and his costume a cross between that of a student or professor and that of a miner, for on his bushy head was a miner's cap with a lantern, and on his back was a student's gown, while his thin legs were incased in black silk stockings, and his feet in rough hobnailed boots. Slung over one shoulder was a leather bag, and in his hand was a curious sort of a tool. "The Master Professor Knops has the honor of saluting Prince Leo Lazybones," was the way in which this extraordinary person introduced himself, making at the same time a deep bow and a military salute, but with no raising of the cap from which the little lantern gleamed with a bright blue flame. Leo returned the salutation with a lazy grace, smiling curiously upon the queer little object before him, who proceeded to say: "And now let us go; I lead--you follow." "Forward, then," responded Leo, rising from his lounging attitude. The elf went nimbly down the corridor, as if accustomed to it, and paused before a door which led to a flight of stone steps. "Are you going down cellar?" asked Leo, who knew where the stairs led. "I am," replied Knops; "but these huge doors and heavy hinges bother me. Be so good as to open and close them for me. By-the-way, you may get hungry; shall we find food down here?" "Perhaps so," said Leo, following, and doing as requested. They went down step after step, and it was wonderful how much light came from that little blue flame. On skipped the elf, his gown puffing out, his nailed boots pattering over the stones, and Leo found himself quite breathless when they reached the cellar, so unused was he to any rapidity of movement. "Suppose we meet some one," said Leo. "And what have we to fear if we do? No one can see me, and if you are afraid of a scullion or house-maid you are not the Prince I take you for. Tut! tut! don't be afraid--come on." The cellar was damp, and great curtains of cobwebs, like gray lace, fell over the empty bins and wine-vaults. From a heap of winter vegetables Leo filled his pockets with apples and turnips. They came at last to a door which Leo remembered having opened once, but finding that it led to a passage which was dark, dismal, and unused, he had not cared to explore it. He now followed the elf through it, but not without misgivings, for as he groped along he stepped on a round object which, to his horror when the little blue flame of the elf's lantern revealed its empty sockets and grinning jaws, proved to be a skull. Knops turned with a smile when he saw Leo's agitation, and said, blandly, "You are not interested in this form of natural history, I see." Then taking up the skull, he placed it in a crevice of the wall, saying, "Here is another proof that there are no ghosts about. Do you think any one would be so careless of his knowledge-box as to leave it to be kicked around in that way? Oh, those old monks were miserable house-keepers; the idea of stowing away their skeletons so near their kitchen closets!" Leo smiled faintly, and went on after Knops, who every once in a while gave a tap on the walls with his tool, starting the echoes. "There!" said he, "do you hear that? This is the way we make old houses haunted. I don't do it for fun, as do the elves of folly. I have a sensible purpose; but they like nothing better than to frighten people, and so they make these noises at all hours, and get up reports that a house is bewitched; but even a common insect like the cricket can do that, human beings are such ridiculous cowards." Leo made an effort to assume the courage which he did not feel, and asked his guide how much farther he intended to lead him. "Now," said Knops, stopping, and putting on an air of intense gravity, as if he were about to deliver a lecture, "I must beg you, my dear Prince, to place perfect confidence in me. I promised not to harm you. As a member of the S.P.C.C., I am pledged to protect you; besides, you have no idea how much I am interested in you; this expedition has been planned entirely for your benefit. Trust me, then, and give yourself entirely up to my control. Ask as many questions as you wish, provided they are useful ones. Just say, without ceremony, 'Knops, why is this? or, Knops, what is that?' and I, in return, if you will be so good as to allow me, will say, frankly, 'Leo, this is this,' or 'that is that.' But here is the entrance to our habitations. You will have to stoop a little." Striking again with his tool, a panel slid open in the wall, through which they crept. It was still dark, but the air had changed greatly; instead of the musty dampness of a vault, there was a soft warmth, which was fragrant and spicy, and a beam as of moonlight began to illuminate the passage, which broadened until they stood at its termination, when Leo found himself on a ledge or gallery of rock, which was but one of many in the vast cavern which opened before them. On its floor was burning an immense bonfire, which flashed and flamed, and around which was a bevy of dwarfs, shovelling on fuel from huge heaps of sandal-wood. Every gallery swarmed with elves and dwarfs in all sorts of odd costumes, but all bore little lanterns in their caps, and tools in their hands. Some were hammering at great bowlders, others with picks were working in passages similar to the one Leo had left, and others seemed to be turning lathes, sharpening knives, cutting and polishing heaps of brilliant stones. Every once in a while a party of queer little creatures much smaller than Knops would trundle in wheelbarrows full of rough pebbles, and dumping them down before those employed in cutting and polishing, would be off again in a jiffy for another load. Leo was so astonished that he stood perfectly silent, gazing now at the flashing fire which reflected from all sides of the brilliant quartz of the cavern, and now at the tier upon tier of galleries full of busy little people. "This is one of our workshops," said Knops, "but not the most important. Now that you have rested a moment I will take you to that." Line upon line of red and green in rubies and emeralds were at the base of the grotto, and then he found that the emeralds sprang up into long grasses, and the rubies into flaming roses, and on slender spears were lilies of pearls and daisies of diamonds, and blending with these were vines of honeysuckle and strawberries, gleaming with sapphires and topaz and amethysts, wreathing and flashing up to a ceiling of lapis lazuli blue as a June sky. The floor was a mosaic of turquoise forget-me-nots on a turf of Egyptian jasper. When Leo had looked at all this bewildering beauty, Knops pushed open the mica door again, and they began to traverse the galleries of the rock cavern. He was surprised that none of the elves noticed him, nor even looked at him, and he asked Knops the reason. "I have rendered you invisible to them, my dear Leo, for two reasons: one is that you may be undisturbed in your examination of their work, and the other is that they may not be interrupted; for of course your presence would be a source of lively interest to them, and yet any stoppage of work would necessitate punishment." "Punishment?" repeated Leo, questioningly. "Oh yes; most of our hardest workers are elves of mischief and it is only by keeping them thus constantly employed that we prevent disorder. You have no idea what pranks they play." "And what is your authority among them?" asked Leo. "I am one of our King's cabinet; my title is Master Professor. My learning qualifies me to decide upon the plans of work, where to search for precious stones, and how best to prepare them for man's finding. Nothing is more amusing than the wonder and surprise men exhibit at what they consider their discoveries of minerals and gems, when for ages we have been arranging them for their clumsy hands." "How do you do this?" "Ah! it's a long story. Here you see the result of our long searches, and were it not for the processes we conduct none of these stones would ever be found. We can penetrate where man has never been; we can construct what man has in vain tried to do. Come with me to our diamond-room: we do not make many, preferring to find them; but as an interesting scientific experiment we have always liked to test our ability." So saying, Knops turned down a little lane lighted by what looked like small globes of white fire. "Electric light," said Knops, with a gesture of disdain, as he saw Leo blinking with wonder--"the commonest sort of a blaze; and yet men have nearly addled their brains over it, while we made it boil our kettles. It's the simplest and cheapest fuel one can have; but having utilized it so long, I am on the lookout for something new. Here, this is the way;" and again he opened a mica door. CHAPTER IV Blow-pipes and retorts, crucibles and jars, porcelain and glass vessels, of all odd sorts and shapes, confronted them on tables and shelves, and seated before small furnaces, with gauze protectors for their faces and metal ones for their knees, and queer little rubber gloves for their hands, were the very queerest of all the elves Leo had yet seen. They were thinner and much less muscular than the miners and stone-polishers, with eyes too large and legs too small for their bodies, so that they resembled nothing so much as spiders. "See how in the pursuit of the beautiful one can lose all beauty," said Knops, confidentially. "How hot it is here!" said Leo, gasping for breath. "Yes, my dear fellow, there's no doubt of that; the heat is tremendous. Now some of your thermometers go no higher than one hundred and thirty, while ours can ascend to three and four hundred; that is, for the common air of our dwellings. Of course the heat demanded by many of our experiments is practically incalculable; for instance--" "Oh, get me out of this!" entreated Leo. "Here, step into this niche, put your mouth to this opening"--and Knops pointed to one of many silver tubes which projected near them--"now breathe. Is not that refreshing?" "Yes," said Leo, reviving, as he took a long draught of fresh cool air. "How do your people endure such heat?" "They are used to it; besides, they can come to these little tubes, as you have done, whenever they please." "Where does this air come from?" "It is pure oxygen; we manufacture it, and here is a lump of pure carbon which we also manufacture," and he laid in Leo's hand what looked like a drop of dew. It was a diamond of exquisite lustre. As Leo looked with surprise and admiration at it, an elf came staggering up to the niche. After breathing the oxygen he turned to Knops with a heart-rending cry. "I have lost it--lost it, Master Knops." "Lost what, Paz?" "The finest stone I ever made, and I have been years at it." "How did that happen?" "Burned it too long--look!" and he produced in his spidery hand a small mass of charcoal. "Never mind, Paz; better luck next time," said Knops, kindly. "No, I am no longer fit for the profession; such a mistake is inexcusable. I cannot hold up my head among the others. I meant that diamond for our King's tiara or the Queen's necklace--bah! Please, Master Professor, put me among the miners, or take me for your valet. I care not what I do." "You are depressed just now; wait awhile." "No, I must go. I have broken my crucible and put out my furnace. I will not stay to be scorned." "Come with me, then, and I will see what I can do for you." "He may be useful to us," said Knops to Leo, adding, "we never allow these diamonds to be put in the quartz beds; they are all reserved for our own particular uses. It takes so long a time to make them that only elves of great patience and a certain quiet habit of mind are trained to the task. Look!" He pointed towards what appeared to be a glittering cobweb hanging from a projection on the wall. It was composed of silver wires, on which were strung numbers of small but most exquisite gems, each of which sparkled and flashed with its imprisoned light. "In the same way," he resumed, "all the pearls we use are of our own cultivation, if I may use the term. We secure the oysters and insert small objects within the shells, generally a seed-pearl of insignificant size, leaving it to be worked upon by the living fish; when enough time for the incrustation has elapsed we find our pearls grown to a remarkable size, of rarest beauty and value. These processes are not unknown to man, but men are so clumsy that they seldom succeed in perfecting them." Leo by this time was quite exhausted both by what he had seen and by what he had heard, and he begged Knops to allow him to rest. "Certainly, certainly, my dear," said Knops. "Pardon me for wearying you. I am more scientific than hospitable. Come to our sleeping apartment. I think I shall allow Paz to see you, for, as he is so unhappy, it will divert him to serve you while you remain with us, and perhaps, too, he can suggest something suitable for your food. I ought to have thought of this before." Leo had, with three or four bites, disposed of an apple, and had already begun on a turnip, when Knops, giving Paz a peculiar sign, the spidery little fellow reached up and snatched the turnip from Leo's hand. "What's the matter now?" asked Leo, too tired to regain it, easily as he could have done so. "I can't see anybody eat such wretched stuff as that; wait till I cook it," said Paz. "Well, Paz, I am glad you can help me out of my difficulty," said Knops. "I really am puzzled what to do for Prince Leo's hunger. My breakfast is a wren's egg; for dinner, a sardine with a slice of mushroom is enough for four of us; for supper, a pickled mouse tongue. How long could you live on such fare, Leo?" "Not long, I fear." "So I supposed. Well, here is the dormitory; by pushing up a dozen or more beds, you can stretch out awhile. Meanwhile I can attend to some professional duties, after I have despatched Paz for your food. What are you going to do with that turnip, Paz?" "An elf who can make diamonds from charcoal can perhaps produce beefsteak from a turnip," said Leo. "Ah! don't remind me of my bitter humiliation, kind sir," said Paz, in a sad tone. "I will do what I can for you. Do you like soup?" "Immensely." "And roast quail?" "Delicious!" "Apple tart?" "Nothing better." "Adieu, then, for an hour." Knops too departed, leaving Leo to look about him, with curious eyes, upon rows of little beds, each with a scarlet blanket, and each having its pitcher and basin conveniently at hand. But he soon was fast asleep. While all this was happening to Leo, at the monastery there was great confusion. The servants had gone in a body to Prince Morpheus's bedroom to demand their wages. With tearful eyes and wailing voice he had protested that he had no money, that his life was hanging by a thread, and that his brain was on fire. They loudly urged their claims, declaring they would instantly leave the premises unless they were paid. As they could not get a satisfactory reply from their master, who hid his eyes at the sight of their angry faces, and put his fingers in his ears to keep out their noisy voices, they concluded to go; so, packing their boxes and bags, and pressing the mules and oxen into their service, they one by one went off to the nearest village. One old woman, who had never known any other home, alone remained, and when the storm subsided and the house was quiet, Morpheus, being hungry, crawled down to the kitchen fire to find her boiling porridge. "Where is my son?" asked Morpheus. The old woman was deaf, and only muttered, "Gone--all gone." "Alas! and has my son also deserted his father?" cried Morpheus. The old woman nodded, partly with the palsy, and partly because she knew of nothing to say. Morpheus smote his forehead with a tragic gesture, and allowed himself to fall--gently--upon the floor. When he had remained in an apparent swoon long enough he was revived by some hot porridge being poured down his throat, and his hair and hands sprinkled with vinegar. Rousing himself as if with great effort, but really with great ease, he stood up, and finding the kitchen warmer than his cell, concluded to remain there; but the old woman was too stiff with rheumatism to wait upon him, so he had to ladle out his own portion of porridge, get his books and candle for himself, and finally bring in some fagots for the fire. When he sat down to study he found himself in a more cheerful mood than he had been in for many a day, though he could not help wondering what had become of Leo. As he went on thinking where the boy could be he was inspired to write what he called a sonnet upon the subject. Here it is: "My boy has fled his father's home, No more he treads these halls; In vain my voice invokes his name, In vain my tears, my calls. The night winds sigh, the owlets cry, The moon's pale light appears, The stars are shivering in the sky-- I tremble at my fears. Has then the Knight of Shadowy Dread My Leo forced away From his fond parent's loving heart In Death's grim halls astray? I bow reluctant to my fate; 'Tis mine to weep and mine to wait!" He counted the lines over carefully; the eighth and tenth seemed short, but it scanned after a fashion. On the whole it suited him, and was rather better done than many of his verses, so with soothed nerves he sought his pillow. The old woman had slumbered all the evening in her chair. Indeed her snoring had been even and regular enough to act as a measure in marking the time for the musical cadences of the sonnet. Morpheus, having a pretty good appetite, ate some bread and cheese and drank some ale before retiring. CHAPTER V Leo was awakened by being rudely jostled about and tumbled upon the floor. When he opened his eyes the cause was apparent. The elves had found their beds in disorder, and not being able to see him, had, in their efforts to restore order, pitched him out. Hardly had Leo reached the floor when in came Paz to the rescue. "I beg your pardon, sir, for being so long absent," he said, "but the hunters had not come in with any game, and the cooks had use for all the skillets, so that I was obliged to go to the laboratory for a vessel large enough to hold your turnip. Soup is made in great quantities for our work-people, and by adding a few sauces I hope I have made it so that it will please you. If you come with me now I think you may relish your meal." Leo followed Paz to a small cavern hung with a velvety gray moss, on which were clusters of red berries. A small electric light burned in a globe of crystal, set in bands of turquoise, and shone upon a table which, like the bed he had used, was composed of several small ones, covered with a cloth of crimson plush, over which was again spread a white fabric of the thinnest texture and edged with lace. On this was laid a dinner service, so small that it was evidently more for ornament than use. Plates of crystal were bordered with gems, and jars and cups of embossed metal glittered with precious stones. He was obliged, however, to eat his soup from the tureen, and the turnip, now cooked in a sort of _pâté_, was presented on a silver platter. Slices of smoked rabbit, with salted steaks of prairie-dog, were offered in place of the quail, which had not come; but Leo, having a fondness for sweets, saw with wonder one tart made from about a quarter of an apple. This proved to be such a sweet morsel that he kept Paz running for more until he had eaten a dozen. No wine was offered, but ices which looked like heaps of snow with the sun shining on them were dissolving in glass vases, and water as pure as the dew filled his goblet. Rising refreshed from his meal Leo met Knops coming towards him. He had exchanged his dress for what looked like a bathing suit of India rubber. "Are you rested?" he inquired, kindly. "Oh yes, very much, and I must thank you and Paz for so good a dinner," responded Leo. "Don't mention it. If I had not acted on the spur of the moment, when the impulse to amuse you seized me, I would have been better prepared. We use many things for food which you would disdain, but I might have secured antelope meat or Rocky Mountain mutton, and by way of rarity something from Russia or China. Have you ever tasted birds' nests." "Never." "But I suppose you know why they are thought so great a delicacy?" "No." "It is merely the gluten with which they are fastened together, so to speak, by the birds, which renders them agreeable. The Chinese like rats, and in this we agree with them. Well dressed, stuffed with chestnuts or olives, and roasted, they are delicious." Leo made a wry face. "Ah! you are not cosmopolitan." "What is that?" "A citizen of the world, a person free from national prejudices. Ah, these words are long for you; I will try to be simple: you have not learned to eat everything that is good." "But rats are not good; they are vermin." "Bah! yes, because you let them feed like your hogs on anything. We do better; we pen them, and give them grain until they are fat and sweet, and make them eatable." Leo could not disguise his dislike, so Knops, shrugging his shoulders, did not attempt any longer to convince him, but said, "Are you interested in what I have shown you?" "Certainly I am," said Leo, with more spirit than he had ever put into words. "And you care to go on?" "Very much." "Prepare then for great exertion. As you are so large it will be necessary for you to creep through many passages. I am going to take you to see our water-work. The visit may be tiresome, but I think you will be repaid. It is generally supposed that giants have greater power than we. It may be that it is true, but I think it is doubtful. But you may wonder why I speak now of giants. It is because they have originated the opinion among men that the great water-falls and cataracts, such as those of the Nile and Niagara, are entirely of their producing, but we all know the familiar adage, 'Great oaks from little acorns grow.' I am going to show you where the little springs and rivulets have their rise." Leo's attention had flagged during this speech--he was so unaccustomed to many words--now his interest revived. "Do you remember a certain shady spot about half a mile from the monastery, beneath a group of birch-trees, and overhung with alders?" asked Knops. "Do I not, indeed?" responded Leo, eagerly. "It is the sweetest, coolest water on the estate. The moss around that spring is just like green velvet. Many a time I have plunged my whole head in it. The birds know it too, and always come there to drink. I sometimes find four or five of them dipping in at once; it is a pretty sight to see them bathe; they throw the water up under their wings until they drip, and then they are hardly satisfied." "Well," said Knops, "we have the supplying of that spring." All the time they had been talking, Knops had been leading the way through long passages and down steep steps, of which Leo's long legs had to compass several at a stride. Now they came to a low tunnel through which Leo had to creep for what seemed to him miles. Strange to say, the weariness which so often compelled him to rest or doze seemed to be leaving him. He felt an altogether new impulse, a desire to explore these recesses, and a great respect for Knops's learning also made him desirous of conversation, which was something he had always avoided by answering questions in the shortest possible way. The tunnel was not only long and low, but it was dripping with moisture, and the air oppressive with what seemed to be steam. Leo heard wheezing and groaning sounds, which, though not frightful, were very peculiar, and then the thump-thump, as of engines. Very glad was he when the tunnel opened into another large cavern, at the bottom of which was a lake. He could not have seen this had it not been for the electric fluid which blazed like daylight from a great globe overhead. On the margin of the lake were all kinds of hydraulic machines, small as toys, but of every conceivable form; derricks and wheels and screws and pumps, and all under the management of busy little elves, who panted and puffed and tugged at ropes and wheels and pipes as they worked, and kept up a constant chant not unlike the song of the wind on a stormy night. Leo watched them intently. Once in a while one restless little sprite would turn a hose upon his companions, when the chant would stop long enough for the rest to dip him head and heels into the lake, which had a very quieting effect. Leo noticed great numbers of pipes running up the sides of the cavern in all directions, but Knops soon opened the door of what he called "the model-room," and here were new wonders displayed. CHAPTER VI The model-room of the elves' water-work department was a grotto of salt--glittering, dazzling, sparkling, and flashing--divided into two equal parts, or as if a huge shelf had been placed across it. On the top of the shelf was a tiny park or forest, with all the natural differences of the ground exactly represented by grasses, plants, flowers, rocks, and trees, living and growing, but on a scale so small that Leo was forced to use a microscope to properly enjoy its beauty. Even the herbage was minute, and the trees no larger than small ferns, but as his eyes grew accustomed to the glass he was amazed to find the hills and dales of his home here reproduced in the most familiar manner. It was truly an exquisite scene. Field upon field dotted with daisies, woodland as dense and wild as untrained nature leaves it, and hill upon hill clambering over one another, all so minute and yet so real, and dashing down from the tiny mountains was a stream of foaming water, winding about and gathering in from all sides other tributary brooks, so small that they would hardly have floated a good-sized leaf. And now Leo understood the meaning of it all, as he looked underneath the shelf where tiny pumps and rams were forcing up the water for this stream. Knops touched a spring and set a new series of wheels in motion, when, instantly, a gushing fountain flowed up in a small stone basin beneath a rustic cross; then a little lake appeared, on which were sailing small swans; and finally a rushing, roaring flood started some mill-wheels and almost threatened destruction to the tiny buildings upon its banks. "This," said Knops, "shows you how we use the power of our reservoirs, but it can give you no idea of the immense trouble we have in laying pipes for great distances. Some of our elves find it so difficult that they beg for other work, and many run off altogether and live above-ground, inhabiting the regions of springs and brooks, and so muddying them and filling them up with weeds that men let them alone, which is just what they desire." "Do fish ever clog your pipes?" asked Leo. "Never. We have none in our lakes; the water is too pure and free from vegetable matter for fish. It is doubly distilled. Taste it." Leo took the glass which Knops offered,
{'title': 'The Adventures of Prince Lazybones, and Other Stories by Helen Ashe Hays', 'source': 'Project Gutenberg', 'lang': 'en'}