Part 1 (2/2)

And the blessed day broke golden and perfect!

She sprang up singing; she sang to the sunbeams, and to her lily, and to the joy in the world; she ran out, and leaped as she went; the gra.s.s blew in the wind, and the long yellow road rolled away like unwound silk.

She sang on and on, hardly knowing. And it was a sweet song no one had ever heard. It was what birds sing, only this had words; and this song was so full of joy that when a sad poet heard it he stopped the lonely tune he piped, and listened till his heart thrilled. And when he could no longer hear, he took up the sweet strain and played it so strong and clear that it set the whole air a-singing. The children in the street began dancing and laughing as he played; the old looked up; a lame man felt that he might leap, and the blind who begged at corners forgot they did not see, the song was so full of the morning wonder.

But little Pippa did not know this; she had pa.s.sed on singing.

Out beyond the village there were men who worked, building a lordly castle. And there was a youth among them who was a stair-builder, and he had a deep sorrow. The dream of the perfect and beautiful work was in his life, but it was given to him to build only the stairs men trod on.

And as he knelt working wearily at his task, from somewhere beyond the thicket there came a strange, sweet song, and these were the words:

”All service ranks the same with G.o.d: ... there is no last nor first.”

The youth sprang up; the wind lifted his hair, the light leaped into his eyes, and he began to do the smallest thing perfectly.

Farther down the road there was a ruined house; a man leaned his head on his hand and looked from the window. A great deed that the world needed must be done; and the man loved the great deed, but his heart had grown faint, and he waited.

And it chanced that Pippa pa.s.sed, singing, and her song reached the man; and it was to him as if G.o.d called. He rose up strong and brave, and leaping to his horse he rode away to give the great deed to the world.

At night when the tired Pippa lay upon her little bed, she said to the day, ”Sweet Day, you brought me no loving deed to give in payment for the joy you gave.”

But the day knew.

And on the morrow, the child Pippa went back to the mill and wound the silk bobbins, and she was so full of gladness, she hummed with them all day.

Know'st thou the land where citrons are in bloom, The orange glows amidst a leafy gloom, A gentle breeze from cloudless heaven blows The myrtle still, and high the laurel grows?

Know'st thou it well?

Ah! there--Ah, there would I fare!

--_From Goethe's ”Wilhelm Meister.”_

[Ill.u.s.tration: _By Paul Kiessling_

MIGNON]

MIGNON.

Once there was a band of people who did nothing but wander about from village to village, giving shows in the marketplaces. They had no homes or gardens or fields, but the fathers earned the living by doing remarkable things.

The little children played in the wagons, and the mothers cooked the meals over the camp-fire when they stopped outside the village, and they were quite happy after their own fas.h.i.+on. But often, when they pa.s.sed down the streets between the rows of thatched houses with children playing in the yards, it all seemed to them something very beautiful indeed, and they looked at it as long as it was possible.

The little girl of the strong man, and the little boy whose father walked on his hands, often stood a long, long time looking through the fence at children who had real hollyhocks in their yards, besides a little green tree growing right out of the thatch on the top of the roof; and in some of the houses, where the doors stood open, they could see the most s.h.i.+ning pans and kettles ranged about the chimney.

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