The Children\'s Hour, v 5. Stories From Seven Old Favorites written by Eva March Tappan

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THE CHILDREN'S HOUR

IN TEN VOLUMES

ILLUSTRATED

VOLUME V

[Illustration: _Ferdinand and Ariel_]

The
Children's
Hour

STORIES
FROM SEVEN
OLD FAVORITES

Selected & Arranged by
Eva March Tappan

Houghton
Mifflin
Company

Between the dark and the daylight,
when the night is beginning to lower,
Comes a pause in the days occupations,
that is known as the Children's Hour.

CONTENTS

TO THE CHILDREN

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

CHRISTIAN PASSES THROUGH THE WICKET GATE _John Bunyan_

A VISIT TO THE HOUSE OF THE INTERPRETER _John Bunyan_

AT THE HOUSE BEAUTIFUL _John Bunyan_

CHRISTIAN'S FIGHT WITH APOLLYON _John Bunyan_

THE CASTLE OF GIANT DESPAIR _John Bunyan_

THE DELECTABLE MOUNTAINS _John Bunyan_

THE PILGRIMS WANDER FROM THE WAY _John Bunyan_

THE CELESTIAL CITY _John Bunyan_

ROBINSON CRUSOE

ROBINSON CRUSOE IS SHIPWRECKED _Daniel Defoe_

UNLOADING A WRECK _Daniel Defoe_

ROBINSON CRUSOE'S FIRST HOME ON THE ISLAND _Daniel Defoe_

ROBINSON CRUSOE BUILDS A BOAT _Daniel Defoe_

THE MYSTERIOUS FOOTPRINT _Daniel Defoe_

THE COMING OF FRIDAY _Daniel Defoe_

HOMEWARD BOUND _Daniel Defoe_

GULLIVER'S TRAVELS

GULLIVER IS SHIPWRECKED ON THE COAST OF LILLIPUT _Jonathan Swift_

GULLIVER SEIZES THE ENEMY'S FLEET _Jonathan Swift_

A LILLIPUTIAN ODE TO THE MAN-MOUNTAIN _Jonathan Swift_

AMONG THE BROBDINGNAGIAN GIANTS _Jonathan Swift_

ADVENTURES IN BROBDINGNAG _Jonathan Swift_

GULLIVER'S ESCAPE _Jonathan Swift_

DON QUIXOTE

DON QUIXOTE DETERMINES TO BECOME A KNIGHT
_Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra_

THE FIGHT WITH THE WINDMILLS _Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra_

THE INNKEEPER'S BILL _Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra_

THE BATTLE OF THE SHEEP _Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra_

THE CONQUEST OF MAMBRINO'S HELMET _Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra_

DON QUIXOTE'S BATTLE WITH THE GIANTS _Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra_

DON QUIXOTE MEETS THE LIONS _Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra_

THE RIDE ON THE WOODEN HORSE _Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra_

THE THREE THOUSAND THREE HUNDRED AND ODD LASHES
_Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra_

THE RETURN AND DEATH OF DON QUIXOTE _Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra_

THE ARABIAN NIGHTS

THE STORY OF ALADDIN; OR, THE WONDERFUL LAMP

ALI BABA AND THE FORTY THIEVES

SINDBAD THE SAILOR

THE TRAVELS OF BARON MUNCHAUSEN

THE BARON'S FIRST WANDERINGS _Rodolph Eric Raspe_

THE BARON'S JOURNEY TO ST. PETERSBURG _Rodolph Eric Raspe_

THE BARON'S WONDERFUL HORSE _Rodolph Eric Raspe_

THE BARON'S COLD DAY _Rodolph Eric Raspe_

TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE

THE COMEDY OF ERRORS _Charles and Mary Lamb_

THE MERCHANT OF VENICE _Charles and Mary Lamb_

THE TEMPEST _Charles and Mary Lamb_

ILLUSTRATIONS

FERDINAND AND ARIEL _Sir John Everett Millais_

CHRISTIAN IS HARNESSED FOR THE PILGRIMAGE _David Scott, R.S.A._

CAUGHT CHRISTIAN AND HOPEFUL ASLEEP _David Scott, R.S.A._

THE SECOND RAFT _J. Finnemore_

THE PRINT OF A MAN'S NAKED FOOT ON THE SHORE _J. Finnemore_

PRODUCING HIS CREDENTIALS _T. Morten_

THE HUGE CREATURE TROD SHORT _T. Morten_

HURLED AWAY BOTH KNIGHT AND HORSE _Gustave Dore_

A HIDEOUS GENIE OF GIGANTIC SIZE APPEARED _Robert Smirke, R.A._

THE GREAT HEAPS OF GOLD DAZZLED HER EYES _Robert Smirke, R.A._

PURSUED BY THE ROCS _J.D. Batten_

THE LION JUMPED FORWARD INTO THE CROCODILE'S MOUTH _Gustave Dore_

THE VESSEL WILL BE DASHED TO PIECES _G. Romney_

TO THE CHILDREN

This volume is made up of stories from seven famous books. These books
are as different as they can possibly be; and yet there are not many
boys and girls who do not like every one of them. The chief reason for
this is because they seem so true, so much more "real" than most other
stories. When you read about Tom Thumb, for instance, you do not
really believe that there ever was a little boy no bigger than his
mother's thumb; at least, you do not believe it in the same way that
you believe the sun shines or the wind blows; but when you read
"Robinson Crusoe," you feel as if every word of it must be true.

The first of these books is "The Pilgrim's Progress." In one way it is
a little like a fable; that is, when you read it the first time, it is
simply a good story. Afterwards--sometimes a long while
afterwards--you read it again or sit thinking about it, and suddenly
you see that it has another meaning, that it is more than the story of
a man who makes a wonderful journey. This book was written in jail by
a man named John Bunyan. The English laws of that time would not allow
any one to preach except clergymen of the Church of England. Bunyan,
however, felt that it would be wicked for him to obey these laws, so
he kept on preaching. He was thrown into prison, and the prisons of
those days were horrible places. "If you will promise not to preach
again, you shall be free," said the officers. "If you let me out
to-day I will preach again to-morrow," declared Bunyan; and meanwhile
he preached to the other prisoners. He thought of his wife and
children and of how little he could do to support them while he was in
jail; he thought of his little blind daughter Mary; but still he said
to himself, "I must, I must do it." For twelve long years he stayed in
prison. He made tags for shoe laces to sell to help his family; and he
wrote the book that has been read by more people than any other volume
except the Bible.

The second book, "Robinson Crusoe," was written by Daniel Defoe; and
he, too, knew what it was to be in jail. He was not imprisoned for
preaching, but for his political writings. Once when he had written a
pamphlet that did not please the authorities, he was condemned to
stand in the pillory. The people took his part, and, instead of
throwing stones at him, they dropped roses about him and bought
thousands of copies of a poem that he had written while in jail.

He wrote many books, but his best, "Robinson Crusoe," was produced
after he had become a middle-aged man and had some money and a big,
homely house with plenty of ground for his favorite gardening. The way
the book came to be written was this. A sailor named Alexander Selkirk
spent more than four years alone on the island of Juan Fernandez. When
he was rescued and brought to England, many people went to gaze at him
in his goatskin clothes and to hear him talk about his life on the
island. Defoe went with the others, and he never forgot the stories
told by the sailor in goatskins. Seven years later he worked in his
garden and thought about the desert island. Then he went into his
house and wrote the book that everybody likes, "Robinson Crusoe."

"Gulliver's Travels" was written by an Irish clergyman named Jonathan
Swift. He was a strange man. Some people said he was a genius, and
some said he had always been a little insane. When he wrote, he often
seemed to care for nothing but to say the most cutting, scornful
things that he could. There was one class of persons, however, who
loved him from the bottom of their hearts, and they were the poor
people about his home in Ireland. It is true that he sometimes scolded
them, but they saw straight through his grumbling and understood that
he really cared for them and wanted to help them, and they loved him
and trusted him. He lived more than two hundred years ago, but the
Irish have never forgotten him; and even to this day, if you should
wander about in Ireland, you would see in many a little cottage people
gathered around the fire, telling over and over the stories that their
grandmothers had told them of his kind heart and his peculiar ways.

"The Pilgrim's Progress," "Robinson Crusoe," and "Gulliver's Travels"
were all written by men of the British Isles, but our fourth book,
"Don Quixote," was written by a Spaniard named Cervantes. He was a
soldier part of his life and as valiant a fighter as his own hero. For
five years he was a prisoner of war; he was poor and sick and in one
trouble after another; but he was always brave and cheerful and
good-humored. In his day, the Spaniards read few books except queer
old romances of chivalry, the sort of tale in which a great champion
goes out with his squire to wander over the world in search of
adventures. He makes thieves give back what they have stolen, he sets
prisoners free, he rescues beautiful maidens who have been dragged
away from their homes; in short, he roams about making people do
whatever he thinks proper. Sometimes he takes a castle all by himself,
sometimes he gets the better of a whole group of champions or a host
of giants or even a dragon or two. Cervantes's book makes fun of such
tales as these. His hero attacks a terrible company of giants standing
on a plain all ready to destroy him; but the giants prove to be
windmills, and their sails give him many a heavy blow before his fight
with them is over. Another time, he finds the giants in his very
bedroom; and the courageous knight cuts off their heads as fast as he
can swing his sword. Blood flows like water; only when a light is
brought, it does not prove to be blood but--well, it is not fair to
tell the rest of the story. We must let Cervantes do that for himself
in "Don Quixote's Battle with the Giants."

The fifth book, the "Arabian Nights," is a mystery. We do not know who
composed the stories or who brought them together in one collection.
We cannot even tell where they came from. The most we can say
positively is that two hundred years ago a Frenchman traveling through
the East came across them in some Arabian manuscripts and translated
them into French. Whether they came in the first place from Arabia or
Persia or India, whether they were composed five or six hundred years
ago or at least one thousand, no one can say. Many learned scholars
have tried in vain to answer these questions; but if we had to choose
between having the stories and knowing who wrote them, I do not
believe that any boy or girl who had read even one of them would find
it difficult to make a choice.

The sixth book, "The Travels of Baron Munchausen," is said to have
been written by a German named Raspe; but it is just as well not to
believe this statement too positively, for it is quite possible that
Raspe had nothing to do with the book. Learned scholars have held
profound discussions on the source of the stories. One in particular,
that of the frozen tunes which began to play of themselves as soon as
they thawed, has been found in some form in several countries. The
best match for the Baron's version is the old tale of the merchants
who set out one day to buy furs. When they came to a river, they saw
the fur dealers standing on the opposite shore. The dealers held up
their furs and seemed to be shouting their prices, but it was so cold
that the words froze in the air. Then the merchants went out on the
ice and built a great fire. It warmed the air overhead, and the words
thawed and came down. But long before this, the dealers had gone home.
The merchants thought the prices too high, so they, too, went home;
and that was the end of the tale. The "Travels" is full of stories as
absurd as this, but told in such a way that while you are reading
them, and sometimes for as much as five minutes afterwards, you feel
as if they were really true.

The seventh and last of the books is the plays of Shakespeare. A play
always contains a story, and it is the stories of some of
Shakespeare's dramas that are given here. In the real plays there is
much more than stories, however, because Shakespeare was not only a
story-teller but also a poet. A poet must express what he sees and
thinks in a way to give pleasure and he must see more than other
people. Now when Shakespeare puts a thought into words, we find that
no one else has expressed it so well. Moreover, he sees more clearly
than any other writer how a person would feel and behave in various
circumstances. As we read the plays, we say to ourselves of one
character after another, "That is just the way I should feel if I were
that person." We think of them as real people. We talk of what they
would have done if circumstances had been different. It is only a
great genius who can make out of words characters that seem almost as
real as the people around us, but this is what William Shakespeare has
done.

THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

CHRISTIAN PASSES THROUGH THE WICKET GATE

_By John Bunyan_

In process of time _Christian_ got up to the Gate. Now over the Gate
there was written, _Knock and it shall be opened unto you_. He knocked
therefore more then once or twice, saying,--

"May I now enter here? Will he within
Open to sorry me, though I have bin
An undeserving Rebel? Then shall I
Not fail to sing his lasting praise on high."

At last there came a grave Person to the Gate named _Good-Will_, who
asked Who was there? and whence he came? and what he would have?

_Chr._ Here is a poor burdened sinner. I come from the City of
_Destruction_, but am going to Mount _Zion_, that I may be delivered
from the wrath to come. I would therefore, Sir, since I am informed
that by this Gate is the way thither, know if you are willing to let
me in.

_Good-Will._ I am willing with all my heart, said he; and with that he
opened the Gate.

So when _Christian_ was stepping in, the other gave him a pull. Then
said _Christian_, What means that? The other told him, A little
distance from this Gate, there is erected a strong Castle, of which
_Beelzebub_ is the Captain; from thence both he and they that are with
him shoot arrows at those that come up to this Gate, if haply they may
dye before they can enter in. Then said _Christian_, I rejoyce and
tremble. So when he was got in, the Man of the Gate asked him, Who
directed him thither?

_Chr._ _Evangelist_ bid me come hither and knock (as I did); and he
said that you, Sir, would tell me what I must do.

_Good-Will._ An open door is set before thee, and no man can shut it.

_Chr._ Now I begin to reap the benefits of my hazards.

_Good-Will._ But how is it that you came alone?

_Chr._ Because none of my Neighbours saw their danger, as I saw mine.

_Good-Will._ Did any of them know of your coming?

_Chr._ Yes, my Wife and Children saw me at the first, and called after
me to turn again; also some of my Neighbours stood crying and calling
after me to return; but I put my fingers in my ears, and so came on my
way.

_Good-Will._ But did none of them follow you, to persuade you to go
back?

_Chr._ Yes, both _Obstinate_ and _Pliable_; but when they saw that
they could not prevail, _Obstinate_ went railing back, but _Pliable_
came with me a little way.

_Good-Will._ But why did he not come through?

_Chr._ We indeed came both together, until we came at the Slow of
_Dispond_, into the which we also suddenly fell. And then was my
Neighbour _Pliable_ discouraged, and would not adventure further.
Wherefore getting out again on that side next to his own house, he
told me I should possess the brave countrey alone for him; so he went
_his_ way, and I came _mine_: he after _Obstinate_, and I to this
Gate.

_Good-Will._ Then said _Good-Will_, Alas, poor man, is the
Coelestial Glory of so small esteem with him, that he counteth it
not worth running the hazards of a few difficulties to obtain it?

_Chr._ Truly, said _Christian_, I have said the truth of _Pliable_,
and if I should also say all the truth of myself, it will appear there
is no betterment 'twixt him and myself. 'T is true, he went back to
his own house, but I also turned aside to go in the way of death,
being persuaded thereto by the carnal arguments of one Mr. _Worldly
Wiseman_.

_Good-Will._ O, did he light upon you? What! he would have had you a
sought for ease at the hands of Mr. _Legality_. They are both of them
a very cheat. But did you take his counsel?

_Chr._ Yes, as far as I durst: I went to find out Mr. _Legality_,
until I thought that the Mountain that stands by his house would have
fallen upon my head; wherefore there I was forced to stop.

_Good-Will._ That Mountain has been the death of many, and will be the
death of many more; 't is well you escaped being by it dashed in
pieces.

_Chr._ Why truly I do not know what had become of me there, had not
_Evangelist_ happily met me again, as I was musing in the midst of my
dumps; but 't was God's mercy that he came to me again, for else I had
never come hither. But now I am come, such a one as I am, more fit
indeed for death by that Mountain than thus to stand talking with my
Lord; but O, what a favor is this to me, that yet I am admitted
entrance here!

_Good-Will._ We make no objections against any; notwithstanding all
that they have done before they come hither, they in no wise are cast
out; and therefore, good _Christian_, come a little way with me, and I
will teach thee about the way thou must go. Look before thee; dost
thou see this narrow way? THAT is the way thou must go; it was cast up
by the Patriarchs, Prophets, Christ, his Apostles; and it is as
straight as a rule can make it: This is the way thou must go.

_Chr._ But said _Christian_, Is there no turnings nor windings, by
which a Stranger may lose the way?

_Good-Will._ Yes, there are many ways butt down upon this, and they
are crooked and wide: But thus thou mayest distinguish the right from
the wrong, _that_ only being straight and narrow.

Then I saw in my Dream, that _Christian_ asked him further If he could
not help him off with his Burden that was upon his back; for as yet he
had not got rid thereof, nor could he by any means get it off without
help.

He told him, As to the Burden, be content to bear it, until thou
comest to the place of _Deliverance_; for there it will fall from thy
back itself.

Then _Christian_ began to gird up his loins, and to address himself to
his Journey. So the other told him, that by that he was gone some
distance from the Gate, he would come at the House of the
_Interpreter_, at whose door he should knock, and he would show him
excellent things. Then _Christian_ took his leave of his Friend, and
he again bid him God speed.

A VISIT TO THE HOUSE OF THE INTERPRETER

_By John Bunyan_

Then _Christian_ went on till he came at the House of the
_Interpreter_, where he knocked over and over; at last one came to the
door, and asked Who was there?

_Chr._ Sir, here is a Travailler, who was bid by an acquaintance of
the Good-man of this house to call here for my profit; I would
therefore speak with the Master of the House. So he called for the
Master of the house, who after a little time came to _Christian_, and
asked him what he would have?

_Chr._ Sir, said _Christian_, I am a man that am come from the City of
_Destruction_, and am going to the Mount _Zion_; and I was told by the
Man that stands at the Gate, at the head of this way, that if I called
here, you would shew me excellent things, such as would be an help to
me in my Journey.

_Inter._ Then said the _Interpreter_, Come in, I will shew thee that
which will be profitable to thee. So he commanded his man to light the
Candle, and bid _Christian_ follow him: so he had him into a private
room, and bid his man open a door; the which when he had done,
_Christian_ saw the Picture of a very grave Person hang up against the
wall; and this was the fashion of it. It had eyes lift up to Heaven,
the best of Books in its hand, the Law of Truth was written upon its
lips, the World was behind his back. It stood as if it pleaded with
men, and a Crown of Gold did hang over his head.

_Chr._ Then said _Christian_, What means this?

_Inter._ The Man whose Picture this is, is one of a thousand; he can
beget Children, travel in birth with Children, and nurse them himself
when they are born. And whereas thou seest him with eyes lift up to
Heaven, the best of Books in his hand, and the Law of Truth writ on
his lips, it is to shew thee that his work is to know and unfold dark
things to sinners; even as also thou seest him stand as if he pleaded
with Men; and whereas thou seest the World as cast behind him, and
that a Crown hangs over his head, that is to shew thee that slighting
and despising the things that are present, for the love that he hath
to his Master's service, he is sure in the world that comes next to
have Glory for his reward. Now, said the _Interpreter_, I have shewed
thee this Picture first, because the Man whose Picture this is, is the
only man whom the Lord of the place whither thou art going hath
authorized to be thy Guide in all difficult places thou mayest meet
with in the way; wherefore take good heed to what I have shewed thee,
and bear well in thy mind what thou hast seen, lest in thy Journey
thou meet with some that pretend to lead thee right, but their way
goes down to death.

Then he took him by the hand, and led him into a very large _Parlour_
that was full of dust, because never swept; the which after he had
reviewed a little while, the _Interpreter_ called for a man to sweep.
Now when he began to sweep, the dust began so abundantly to fly about,
that _Christian_ had almost therewith been choaked. Then said the
_Interpreter_ to a _Damsel_ that stood by, Bring hither the Water, and
sprinkle the Room; the which when she had done, it was swept and
cleansed with pleasure.

_Chr._ Then said _Christian_, What means this?

_Inter._ The _Interpreter_ answered, This _Parlour_ is the heart of a
man that was never sanctified by the sweet Grace of the Gospel: the
_dust_ is his Original Sin and inward Corruptions, that have defiled
the whole Man. He that began to sweep at first, is the Law; but She
that brought water, and did sprinkle it, is the Gospel. Now, whereas
thou sawest that so soon as the first began to sweep, the dust did so
fly about that the Room by him could not be cleansed, but that thou
wast almost choaked therewith; this is to shew thee, that the Law,
instead of cleansing the heart (by its working) from sin, doth revive,
put strength into, and increase it in the soul, as it doth discover
and forbid it, but doth not give power to subdue.

Again, as thou sawest the _Damsel_ sprinkle the room with Water, upon
which it was cleansed with pleasure; this is to shew thee, that when
the Gospel comes in the sweet and precious influences thereof to the
heart, then I say, even as thou sawest the Damsel lay the dust by
sprinkling the floor with Water, so is sin vanquished and subdued, and
the soul made clean, through the Faith of it, and consequently fit for
the King of Glory to inhabit.

I saw moreover in my Dream, that the _Interpreter_ took him by the
hand, and had him into a little room, where sat two little Children,
each one in his chair. The name of the eldest was _Passion_, and the
name of the other _Patience_. _Passion_ seemed to be much discontent;
but _Patience_ was very quiet. Then _Christian_ asked, What is the
reason of the discontent of _Passion_? The _Interpreter_ answered, The
Governour of them would have him stay for his best things till the
beginning of the next year; but he will have all now; but _Patience_
is willing to wait.

Then I saw that one came to _Passion_, and brought him a bag of
Treasure, and poured it down at his feet, the which he took up and
rejoyced therein; and withall, laughed _Patience_ to scorn. But I
beheld but a while, and he had lavished all away, and had nothing left
him but Rags.

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