Ting a ling
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Frank Richard Stockton >> Ting a ling
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[Illustration]
When the seventy-five guests (for those who had been taken from the
feast, had joined their comrades) heard this, they all started up, and
ran like deer for the castle; and when they reached it, they woke up
their comrades, and took possession, and lived there all their lives.
The man who had been first thrown through the window, and who had broken
the way through the glass for the others, was elected their chief,
because he had suffered the most; and excepting the trouble of doing
their own work for a week, until the slaves awoke, these people were
very happy ever afterwards.
It was just daylight when our party left the dwarf's castle, and by the
next evening they had reached the palace. The army had not got back, and
there was no one there but the ladies of the Princess. When these saw
their dear mistress, there was never before such a kissing, and hugging,
and crying, and laughing. Ting-a-ling came in for a good share of praise
and caressing; and if he had not slipped away to tell his tale to the
fairy Queen, there is no knowing what would have become of him. The
magicians sat down outside of the Princess's apartments, to guard her
until the army should return; and the ladies would have kissed and
hugged them, in their gratitude and joy, if they had not been such
dignified and grave personages.
Now, the King, the Prince, and the great army, had gone miles and miles
away in the opposite direction to the dwarf's castle, and the Princess
and her ladies could not think how to let them know what had happened.
As for ringing the great bell, they knew that that would be useless, for
they would never hear it at the distance they were, and so they wished
that they had some fireworks to set off. Therefore Zamcar, the youngest
magician, offered to go up to the top of the palace and set off some.
So, when he got up to the roof, he lifted up his cloak, and took out
some fireworks, and set them off; and the light shone for miles and
miles, and the King and all his army saw it. The King had just begun to
feel tired, and to think that he would pitch his tent, and rest for the
night by the side of a pleasant stream they had reached, when he saw the
light from the palace, and instantly knew that there had been tidings of
the Princess,--kings are so smart, you know. So, when his slaves came to
ask him where they should pitch his tent, he shouted, "Pitch it in the
river! 'Tention, army! Right about face, for home,--MARCH!" and away the
whole army marched for home, the band playing the lively air of
"Cream cakes for supper,
Heigh O! Heigh O!
O! Cream cakes for supper,
Heigh O! Heigh O!"--
so as to keep up the spirits of the tired men. When they approached the
palace, which was all lighted up, there was the Princess standing at the
great door, in her Sunday clothes, and looking as lovely as a full-blown
rose. The King jumped from his high-mettled racer, and went up the
steps, two at a time; but the Prince, springing from his fiery steed
bounded up three steps at once, and got there first. When he and the
King had got through hugging and kissing the Princess, her Sunday
clothes looked as if they had been worn a week.
[Illustration]
"Now then for supper," said the King, "and I hope it's ready." But the
Princess said never a word, for she had forgotten all about supper; and
all the ladies hung their heads, and were afraid to speak. But when they
reached the great hall, they found that the magicians had been at work,
and had cooked a grand supper. There it was, on ever so many long
tables, all smoking hot, and smelling delightfully. So they all sat
down, for there was room enough for every man, and nobody said a word
until he was as tight as a drum.
When they had all had enough, and were just about to begin to talk,
there were heard strains of the most delightful soft music; and
directly, in at a window came the Queen of the fairies, attended by her
court, all mounted on beautiful golden moths and dragon-flies. When they
reached the velvet table in front of the throne, where the King had been
eating, with his plate on his lap, they arranged themselves in a circle
on the table, and the Queen spoke out in a clear little voice, that
could have been heard almost anywhere, and announced to the King that
the little Ting-a-ling, who now wore her royal scarf, was the preserver
of his daughter.
"O ho!" said the King; "and what can I do for such a mite as you, my
fine little fellow?"
Then Ting-a-ling, who wanted nothing for himself, and only thought of
the good of his people, made a low bow to the King, and shouted at the
top of his voice, "Your royal gardeners are going to make asparagus beds
all over our fairy pleasure grounds. If you can prevent that, I have
nothing more to ask."
"Blow, Horner, blow!" cried the King, "and hear, all men! If any man,
woman, or child, from this time henceforward forever, shall dare to set
foot in the garden now occupied by the fairies, he shall be put to
death, he and all his family, and his relations, as far as they can be
traced. Take notice of that, every one of you!"
Ting-a-ling then bowed his thanks, and all the people made up their
minds to take very particular notice of what the King had said.
Then the magicians were ordered to come forward and name their reward;
but they bowed their heads, and simply besought the King that he would
grant them seven rye straws, the peeling from a red apple, and the heel
from one of his old slippers. What in the name of common sense they
wanted with these, no one but themselves knew; but magicians are such
strange creatures! When these valuable gifts had been bestowed upon
them, the five good magicians departed, leaving the dwarf for the King
to do what he pleased with. This little wretch was shut up in an iron
cage, and every day was obliged to eat three codfish, a bushel of Irish
potatoes, and eleven pounds of bran crackers, and to drink a gallon of
cambric tea; all of which things he despised from the bottom of his
miserable little heart.
[Illustration]
"Now," cried the King, "all is settled, and let everybody go to bed.
There is room enough in the palace for all to sleep to-night. Form in
line, and to bed,--MARCH!" So they all formed in line, and began to
march to bed, to the music of the band; and the fairies, their little
horns blowing, and with Ting-a-ling at the post of honor by the Queen,
took up their line of march, out of the window to the garden, which was
to be, henceforward forever, their own. Just as they were all filing
out, in flew little Parsley on the back of his butterfly, which had been
hatched out at last.
"Hello!" cried he. "Is it all over?"
"Pretty nearly," said Ting-a-ling. "It's just letting out. How came you
to be so late?"
"Easy enough," said poor little Parsley. "Of all the mean things that
ever was the pokiest long time in unwrapping its wings, this butterfly's
the meanest."
THE MAGICAL MUSIC.
There was once an excessively mighty King, Barradin the Great, who died,
leaving no sons or daughters, or any relation on the face of the earth,
to inherit his crown. So his throne, at the time of which I write, was
vacant. This mighty King had been of a very peculiar disposition. Unlike
other potentates, he took no delight in going to war, or in cutting off
people's heads, or in getting married, or building palaces. But he was a
great musician. All that he cared for, seemed to be music; and the whole
of his leisure time, with a great many of his business hours, was
occupied in either composing or performing music of some kind. Everybody
around him was obliged to be musical; and if one was not so, it would be
of no use for him to apply for any situation. His Prime Minister played
on the violin, his Secretary performed on the horn, while his Treasurer
was superb upon the great drum. Every time the Royal Council met, the
minutes of the last meeting, all set to music, were sung by the
Secretary; and when the King made a speech, he always sung it in a
magnificent bass voice, accompanied by a full orchestra. If any one
wished to present a petition, he was always sure of having it granted,
if he could but sing it excellently well, and even folks who were good
at whistling were favorably received at court. The example of the King
was followed by the people. They nearly always talked to some tune, and
every one but the very poorest owned an instrument.
So this mighty monarch never went to war, or cut off people's heads, or
married more than once; and as for building palaces, it was of no use,
for he had as many as he wanted, already. The last ten years of his life
were occupied, almost entirely, in the composition of a wonderful piece
of music, in which he sought, by means of perseverance and magic, to
combine all the beauties and difficulties of the science. He had
scarcely finished it, when he died; and it was generally supposed that
if he had not worked so hard at it, he would have lived much longer.
The composition was not long, for you could have sung it in ten minutes,
that is, if you could have sung it at all; which is by no means likely,
for had that been the case (and you had lived in those days) you might
have ruled over the country. For, just before the mighty King died, he
made a decree to this effect,--that his successor on the throne should
be the man, woman, or child who could, at sight, sing that piece of
music.
So the music was put up against a marble tablet in the great hall of the
royal palace, and there were six judges appointed,--the most
distinguished professors of music in the country,--and these sat on
great velvet chairs, three on each side of the music, and anybody might
come to try who chose.
You may well believe that the people came in crowds, for nearly every
one wished to be king or queen, as the case might be. This music had a
very singular effect upon most of those who did not succeed in singing
it. They nearly all went crazy. The first few notes were easy, and they
were so beautiful, that it was enough to make any one crazy to think
that they could not sing the rest of it,--not to mention missing the
crown. The Prime Minister had, on this account, a great asylum built, to
which the disappointed candidates were immediately conveyed, and the
house was very soon filled. Indeed, it was often necessary to build
extensions to the main building, and it was not long before this was the
largest edifice in the country. It is true, that although every one
failed to sing the music, they did not all go crazy; but they were taken
to the asylum the same as the rest, and if they were not crazy when they
got there, they soon became so, and thus it amounted to pretty much the
same thing in the end. Well, the judges sat in their chairs until they
died at a good old age, and they were succeeded by others just as
learned. Latterly there were not so many applications as there used to
be, but still, every few days, some one went out to the asylum. Years
passed, and the offices of the judges became sinecures; but they had to
sit there all the same, just as if they expected to be busy; and they
might have been seen, whenever anybody chose to step in during the day,
sitting there with their chins on their breasts, fast asleep. The Prime
Minister, and after him his son, ruled the country very well, and people
began to feel as if they didn't care if they never had a king or a queen
to govern them. As a rule, they all felt very comfortable without
anything of the kind.
Now it so happened that about this time a certain young Prince,
accompanied by an old gentleman (to take care of him), was travelling in
this great kingdom. His father's dominion was very many miles away; but
the Prince had been journeying in this direction for quite a long time,
taking things easily, and seeing everything that was to be seen. His
mother had died when he was quite young, and his father had lately
married the daughter of a gnome, probably because their estates
joined,--his stretching for many miles over the surface of the earth,
while hers lay immediately beneath them. The Prince did not like his
gnome step-mother (who was, you know, one of those large underground
fairies, who are more like human beings than any others), and when a
little gnome-baby was born, he could stand it no longer, and so obtained
permission of his father to travel for the good of his body and mind. So
he had been going from country to country until he reached the capital
city of the great kingdom.
[Illustration]
There the Prince saw enough to fill him with wonder for the rest of his
life. His old friend, Trumkard, took him day by day into the bazaars,
and the palaces, and the mosques, and hundreds of places just as nice.
One beautiful evening the Prince set out for a walk by himself through
the city. The gentle twilight still tinged the sky with gold, and the
soft breeze from the river, that passed through fruit-gardens and
vineyards on its way to the city, smelt of peaches, and grapes, and
plums, and oranges, and pomegranates, and pineapples, and was truly very
delicious. Everything was lovely, and the Prince felt good and happy.
The very beggars, when he had passed them, blessed the happy stars that
had caused them to be born during his life-time, so noble and generous
was the Prince this evening. Strolling along, he came to the palace of
the mighty King. The Prince knew the palace; for Trumkard had taken him
into it, and had shown him the six judges sitting in their velvet
chairs, and the magical music hanging up against the marble tablet
between them. He knew all about the music, and the conditions attached
to it, but, not being much of a musician, he had never felt inclined to
try it. So he walked through the royal courts and vestibules, and into
the great hall where stood the six chairs,--empty, and covered with
silken covers to keep the dust off during the night. And the music was
concealed by a great plate of gold which was locked over it every night.
He met but few persons; for every one who was not detained by some
particular duty, had gone out-of-doors that lovely night. Here and
there, a porter, or a black eunuch, or a soldier or two, he met; but as
every one who saw him, knew him instantly for a prince of good blood, he
could, of course, wander where he pleased. He passed on among the golden
columns and sculptured doorways, and under vaulted and arabesque
ceilings, until he came to a door of mother-of-pearl, which had a golden
lock, an alabaster knob, and a diamond key-hole. It turned easily on
silver hinges, and the Prince passed by it into a beautiful garden. He
had never been in such a place of loveliness. The trees were hung with
many soft-colored lamps, and the fruit glittered and shone in gorgeous
colors on the branches. Every night-bird sang, and every night-flower
was giving forth its fragrance. In the middle of the garden was a
fountain, the waters of which rose in a single jet from the centre, and
then, as they fell back into the basin, each of their thousand drops
struck upon a silver harp-string, causing the most delightful sounds to
fill the air, and mingle with the songs of the birds and the perfume of
the flowers. Around the great basin were silken cushions on which the
Prince reclined, and the goldfish that were swimming in the basin came
up to him to be fed. There also came the ruby fish, that shines as red
as blood, and the zimphare, or transparent fish, which is as colorless
as the water, and can only be discovered by a green knot on its head and
another on its tail.
There were also many other fish, as the balance-fish, which comes up to
the top of the water equally balanced, having at each end of its body
expansions like the pans of scales. These are its mouths, and if one
puts a crumb into one of them without having put one into the other, it
turns right over, and sinks to the bottom. So, when this fish is
properly fed, it always gets two crumbs at a time. Then there was the
gelatine fish, that has no mouth at all, but is very soft and pulpy, and
all that is necessary is to drop some crumbs upon his back, and they
immediately soak in. Also the great flob was there, who came clattering
and clanking up from the bottom of the basin, with his hard shells and
heavy claws, as if he was the greatest fish alive. But for all that he
opened his mouth so wide, and shut it upon a little crumb with a snap
loud enough for a loaf of bread, his throat was so small that that
little crumb nearly choked him. All these fishes the Prince fed from
golden baskets filled with crumbs, and placed around the basin for the
convenience of those who wished to amuse themselves by feeding the fish.
When he was tired of this sport, he rose and entered the palace again by
another door. He had not walked far along an alabaster corridor, before
he saw a door open, and an old woman come out. She had in her hand a
silver waiter, on which was the remains of a delicious little supper,
the scent of which seemed so charming to the Prince that it made him
feel as hungry as a bear in the springtime. The old woman, who was busy
munching some of the pieces of cake, and sucking the bones of the little
birds that were left, did not notice him; and, hoping to find some more
good things where these came from, he slipped in at the door, before the
old woman shut it, and entered a large and beautiful room, lighted by a
single lamp that hung from the ceiling. At the upper end of this
apartment, he was surprised to see a beautiful young Princess, who was
sitting in an arm-chair, fast asleep, with a guitar on the floor at her
feet. Around the room were placed musical instruments of all kinds; but
there was no one there to play on them but the Princess, and she was
fast asleep.
There was a breeze in the room, that seemed to come and go like the
waves of the sea; and the Prince could not imagine what occasioned it,
for all the doors and windows were closed. However, looking upwards, he
saw, behind the Princess's chair, the reason of the wind and the lady's
slumber. Standing behind her, with his feet on the floor and his head
high up in the obscurity of the ceiling, was a great Nimshee, or evil
spirit of the ocean, who was fanning her with his wings, and had put her
to sleep with their slow and dreamy motion. With his great eyes glowing
like meteors in the dimness of the upper part of the room, the Nimshee
glared at the Prince, and waved his wings faster and stronger. But our
young friend was not afraid of him--not a bit. He walked softly round
the room once or twice, and then, returning to the Princess, spoke to
her. She did not awake, and the Prince called her louder and louder, and
at last, putting his hand on her shoulder, he shook her; but still she
slept. He felt that he must awaken her, and seizing the guitar that lay
at her feet, he held it close to her ear, and struck the strings loudly.
The Princess opened her eyes with a start; and as she awoke, the
Nimshee, beating his breast with his wings, gave a great roar like the
waves beating in a storm against a rocky coast, and flew away. The
Princess blushed a little when she first saw the Prince, but he was so
polite that she soon recovered herself, and they conversed quite
pleasantly.
She explained the meaning of the musical instruments in the room, by
stating that she had a great passion for music, and the good people of
the palace brought her a new instrument nearly every day; but she never
sat down to play any of them but she went almost immediately to sleep.
She could not imagine the reason for this; but the Prince knew very well
that the Nimshee had put her to sleep to-day at any rate, and he had no
doubt but that he was always at the bottom of it. He said nothing to
her, however, of what he had seen, as he perceived that she did not know
it, and he did not wish to frighten her.
She said she had taken her guitar that evening, as soon as she had
finished her supper, but had fallen asleep as usual. She asked the
Prince, "Do you play?" and he said, "Only a little;" and then they
walked around the room, and looked at all the instruments, to see if
there were any that the Prince could play on better than the rest. He
wished her to perform, but she urged him, and he soon saw a hand-organ,
and said he was pretty sure that he could play on that. So he tried,
and, sure enough, he could play very well, and the Princess sat down on
the floor by him, and he played for almost an hour and three quarters,
and they were both very much pleased. Then the Prince's arm got tired,
and he stopped and asked the Princess to tell him her history. She said
she was a little ashamed to tell him her story, because he might think
that she was not of as good descent as himself; but the Prince
insisting, she told him that her mother was a water-woman.
[Illustration]
"A mermaid, I suppose?" said the Prince.
"O no!" she cried, "none of those low things with fish-tails, but a real
princess of the ocean. She lived in a splendid palace at the bottom of
the sea, and fell in love with a prince of the earth, who left his
father's kingdom, and went down there and married her.
"I remember my father very well," continued the beautiful Princess. "He
was a fine, handsome man, but our climate never seemed to agree with
him. He could not smoke under the water, and he often used to have aches
which helped to make him unhappy. Before he died, he said that he would
give all the treasures of the ocean for a pipe and a piece of dry
flannel. When he left her, mother pined away, and soon died too, when I
was only about twelve years old. I was very lonely, but, as I was the
daughter of a water-princess and a land-prince, I could go where I
pleased, either on shore or in the water."
"Amphibious like?" said the Prince.
"I don't know anything about that," she replied; "but I used to like to
walk about on the sea-shore, for everything was so different from what I
had been accustomed to,--birds, you know, and all that sort of thing."
"O yes," said the Prince, "it must have been very different to you
indeed; but I was going to say to you, a little while ago, that you need
not think me above you, for I am half-brother to a gnome."
"O, I am glad to hear that," she said; "I was afraid you would make fun
of me."
"As if I could!" said the Prince, reproachfully.
So she went on with her story.
"One day, about a year ago, when I was quite grown up, I met some ladies
who lived here at the palace, and they wanted me to come home with them,
and I did; and I have lived here ever since, and like it very much. They
are all very kind, and if I didn't sleep so much, I should be very
happy."
The Prince now proposed to the Princess, and she accepted him, and then
she sat down to a harp to give him a little music. The Prince's
presence, in some way (perhaps because he was half-brother to a gnome),
prevented the appearance of the Nimshee; and for the first time since
she had been in the palace, she played without hindrance, and her music
was perfectly charming; and with tears of joy in his eyes, the Prince
sat wishing she would play forever. After a while, however, she got
tired and stopped; and when they turned around, they saw the room was
filled by the people of the palace, who had come to hear this delicious
music. They were nearly all wiping their eyes with their
handkerchiefs,--they were so much affected--and they could not find
words good enough with which to praise the playing of the Princess. Such
music they had never heard before.
Directly she declared that she was going to bed; but she desired the
Grand Chamberlain to take that young Prince and give him a handsome room
until morning, when she would like to see him again, and make
arrangements for their wedding.
So she went away with her ladies, and the Chamberlain took the Prince
out into the alabaster hall again.
"Prince indeed!" said the Chamberlain to himself; "O yes! I'll take care
of him, certainly. A good room,--O yes, indeed!" and, taking the Prince
by the arm, he hurried him along, until he came to the aviary, where all
sorts of wonderful and costly birds were kept, and he pushed him in
there, and locked him up. The Prince was so taken by surprise at this
hasty treatment, that he had no time to get angry, or he would certainly
have drawn his sword, and made short work of the Grand Chamberlain. As
it was, he passed the night in the aviary as well as he could; but as he
had no place to lie but the floor, and as the ostriches walked about a
good deal, he was very much afraid they might tread upon him, and this
made him feel uneasy all night. The great owls, too, made it very
unpleasant for him, by forming a circle around him, and steadfastly
gazing at him with their great eyes, which looked like enormous
cat-eyes, stuck into the darkness. As to the night-hawks and the other
birds which fly in the dark, they swooped around and over him the whole
livelong night; and when he began to get a little sleep, about daybreak,
every bird in the place began to sing, or twitter, or scream, or crow,
or gobble, or chatter, and the Prince might as well have tried to fly as
sleep. About eight o'clock, a man came to feed the birds, and seeing the
Prince in the aviary, he put him out instantly. The Prince was very
angry, and tried to find out what this all meant; but the man told him
he had better not let him catch him in there again, and slammed the door
in his face. As the Prince wandered about the palace, he met a number of
people, all of whom he asked to conduct him to the Princess. Some
laughed at him, and others told him that he had better be careful how he
talked about the beautiful Princess, but no one conducted him to her.
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