“Why don’t you sell your feather?”
said Hans, sneeringly. “Out with you.”
“A little bit,” said the old gentleman.
“Be off!” said Schwartz.
“Pray, gentlemen.”
“Off!” cried Hans, seizing him by the
collar. But he had no sooner touched the old
gentleman’s collar than away he went after the
rolling-pin, spinning round and round, till he fell
into the corner on the top of it.
Then Schwartz was very angry, and ran at the old gentleman
to turn him out. But he also had hardly touched
him, when away he went after Hans and the rolling-pin,
and hit his head against the wall as he tumbled into
the corner. And so there they lay, all three.
Then the old gentleman spun himself round until his
long cloak was all wound neatly about him, clapped
his cap on his head, very much on one side, gave a
twist to his corkscrew mustaches, and replied, with
perfect coolness: “Gentlemen, I wish you
a very good morning. At twelve o’clock
to-night, I’ll call again.”
John Ruskin.
* * * *
*
NOTE.—“The King of the Golden River,”
from which the selection is taken, is a charming story
for children. It was written in 1841, for the
amusement of a sick child. It is said to be the
finest story of its kind in the language.
[Illustration:]
* * * *
*
81
elf en cir’ cled jerk hur’ ri cane
rein’deer min’ i a ture tar’ nished
’Twas
the night before Christmas, when all through the
house
Not a creature
was stirring, not even a mouse:
The stockings
were hung by the chimney with care,
In the hope
that St. Nicholas soon would be there.
The children
were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions
of sugar-plums danced in their heads;
And Mamma
in her kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just
settled our brains for a long winter’s nap,
When out
on the lawn there rose such a clatter,
I sprang
from my bed to see what was the matter.
Away to
the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open
the shutters, and threw up the sash.
The moon
on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the
luster of midday to objects below;
When, what
to my wondering eyes should appear
But a miniature
sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer,
With a little
old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in
a moment it must be St. Nick!
More rapid
than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled,
and shouted and called them by name:
“Now,
Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer! now, Vixen!
On, Comet!
on, Cupid! on, Donder and Blitzen!
To the top
of the porch, to the top of the wall,
