Mr. Rabbit at Home by Joel Chandler Harris (feel good books to read .txt) 📕

“Now, I think that was a pretty good story,” said Mr. Rabbit. “It had something about cows in it, and there was nothing about kings and princes. I wouldn’t give that”—Mr. Rabbit blew a whiff of smoke from his mouth—“or all your princes and kings. Of course that’s on account of my ignorance. I don’t know anything about them. I reckon they are just as good neighbors as anybody, when you come to know them right well.”

Buster John laughed at this, but Sweetest Susan only smiled.

“Oh, I am not joking,” remarked Mr. Rabbit solemnly. “There’s no reason why kings and queens and princes shouldn’t be just as neighborly as other people. If a king and queen were keeping house anywhere near me, and were to send over after a mess of salad, or to borrow a cup of sugar or a spoonful of lard, I’d be as ready to accommodate them as I would any other neighbors, and I reckon they’d do the same by me.”

“They’d be mighty foolish if they didn’t,” said Mrs. Meadows.

“I hear tell dat folks hafter be monstus umble-come-tumble when dey go foolin’ ’roun’ whar dey er kingin’ an’ a queenin’ at,” remarked Drusilla. “Ef dey sont me fer ter borry any sugar er lard fum de house whar dey does de kingin’ an’ queenin’, I boun’ you I’d stan’ at the back gate an’ holler ’fo’ I went in dar whar dey wuz a-havin’ der gwines on. Dey wouldn’t git me in dar ’fo’ I know’d how de lan’ lay.”

“I expect you are right, Tar-Baby,” replied Mr. Rabbit.

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t go to sleep over the story of the little boy and the lantern. But it didn’t have any moral,” said Mr. Thimblefinger.

“Why, I reckon that’s the reason I didn’t do any nodding,” explained Mr. Rabbit. “I knew there was something the matter.”

There was a pause, during which Mr. Rabbit betrayed a tendency to fall to nodding again. Presently Mrs. Meadows remarked:—

“I mind me of a story that I heard once—I reckon the talk about kings and queens made me remember it. Anyway, it popped into my head all of a sudden, though I hadn’t thought about it in years.”

“Fire away!” exclaimed Mr. Rabbit, opening his eyes and slowly closing them again.

“Once upon a time there lived in the land of Moraria a man who was very poor. He worked whenever and wherever he could find work, yet he had so many children that even if he had found work every day he could have made hardly enough for all to eat and wear. As it was, times were so hard and work was so scarce that he frequently had to go hungry and half clothed. His wife did the best she could, which was very little. She worked about the palace where the king had lived, but as she was only one among a hundred, she got small wages, and had few opportunities to carry any scraps of victuals to her children.

“Finally the man came to the conclusion that he must make a desperate effort to better his condition, so he said to his wife:—

“‘What are my five senses for? I see other people living by their wits, and dressing fine and enjoying the best in the land. Why shouldn’t I do the same? What is to prevent me but my stupidity?’

“‘Stupidity is a high fence to climb over,’ replied the man’s wife. ‘But if you are willing to try how far your wits will carry you, you will have a good opportunity in a few days. The king’s daughter, the Princess Myla, is to be married next week, and even now the guests are assembling at the palace—most of them belonging to the bridegroom’s retinue.’

“The man leaned his head on his hand and thought a while, and then he rose and put on the best clothes he had, which were poor enough, and tied a rope girdle around his waist.

“‘I shall go to court as a pilgrim,’ he said to his wife. ‘When you see me, do you go around among the other servants and tell them that a great conjurer has arrived from the East. In this way it will come quickly to the King’s ears. Nothing will come of that, but the next morning something valuable will be missing from the palace. When you hear of it, do you tell the rest that you know a man who can find whatever is missing.’

“‘But how will you do this?’ asked the woman.

“‘Leave that to me,’ he replied.

“The man carried out his plan, and his wife followed his directions. She pointed him out to her fellow-servants as a great conjurer from the East. Ragged as he was, the man stalked majestically about the palace-yard, and after a while sat on the ground with his face to the wall, and shook his head from side to side, and made many queer motions with his hands.

“Now, while the man sat there going through his queer motions, he heard voices on the other side of the wall. He judged that two men were resting in the shade on that side, and he knew by the way they talked that they had come with the young Prince who was to marry the Princess Myla.

“‘You have left the blanket on the horse, I hope,’ said one.

“‘Yes, everything is attended to,’ replied the other.

“‘That is well,’ remarked the first. ‘The Prince, our master, desires the Princess Myla to be the first to look on this beautiful horse, which has just come out of Arabia. I will go myself to see that the animal is properly cared for.’

“Presently two strangers came through the gate, laughing and talking, and the man who was playing the conjurer knew they were the keepers of the horse. He rose when they went by, and watched them until he saw what part of the palace stables they entered. Then he slowly made his way out of the palace grounds.

“That night he went back and removed the horse, placing it where no one would be likely to find it. Then he told his wife what he had done.

“‘There will be a great outcry,’ said he, ‘when the horse is missed. In the midst of it make your voice heard, and remind the young Prince’s attendants that there is a famous conjurer within reach who can no doubt find the horse.’

“As the man said, so it turned out. There was a great noise made when it was found that the beautiful Arabian horse had been stolen. The young Prince was ready to tear his hair, so great was his disappointment. He offered a large sum of money to any one who would recover the horse. When the excitement was at its highest, the woman mentioned to some of the attendants that a famous conjurer had come to the palace. She then pointed her husband out to the men. At once the news was carried to the Prince, who was with the King.

“The King was not a believer in conjurers, and he quickly told the attendants to go send the vagabond about his business. But the young Prince was so keen to recover the beautiful horse which he had intended as a wedding gift for the Princess Myla that he insisted on consulting the conjurer. So the man was sent for. He came, followed by a number of people who were anxious to see what he would do. He had a very wise look as he bowed to the King and to the Prince.

“‘Who are you?’ the King asked with a frown.

“‘A poor pilgrim, your Majesty. Nothing more.’

“‘What is your business?’

“‘I am a student, your Majesty.’

“‘Where are your books?’

“‘In men’s faces, your Majesty.’

“The man’s replies were so apt that the King’s ill-humor partly passed away.

“‘A horse has been stolen from the royal stables,’ said the King. ‘I am told you are a conjurer. If you are, find the horse.’

“The man seated himself on the carpet, drew a crystal stone from his pocket, and asked the young Prince to warm it in the palm of his hand. Then the man took it and looked at it a few moments, rubbing his hand over it as if something blurred his sight. Then he said:—

“‘The horse has on a blanket woven on a Russian loom. I see! A dapple-gray with milk-white mane and tail.’

“‘That is the horse!’ cried the Prince. ‘Where is he?’

“‘He is tied in a thicket a half league from here, near a road that leads to the river. He paws the ground and whinnies for his master. He is hungry.’

“At once messengers were sent and the horse found. The Prince was about to give the man a purse of gold, but the King stayed his hand, saying:—

“‘I’ll test this fellow. I believe he is an imposter.’

“The man was very much frightened at this, but there was no escape for him. The King went to his private apartment, and shortly came back with a covered basket in his hand.

“‘There is a bird in this nest,’ said the King. ‘If you are a conjurer, tell me the name of it.’

“‘Alas, your Majesty,’ cried the man, preparing to fall on his knees and beg for mercy, ‘a nest that wouldn’t fit a sparrow might chance to fit a crow.’