FINIKIN AND HIS GOLDEN PIPPINS
MADAME DE CHATELAINE
IN a quiet little village surrounded by woods, there once lived a poor couple who owned nothing in the world but their cottage which sheltered them and a bit of ground where a few vegetables grew. They were blessed with two pretty little twin boys, much alike in face, though very different in character. One was a tidy, diligent, active little fellow, whom, on account of his delicate beauty, his mother used to call Finikin. The other was an idle, careless child, who always loitered if sent on an errand, and grumbled when asked to do any kind of work. This one the mother called Winikin.
The father earned a little money by going out to work as a day labourer. As long as he remained hale and hearty, he managed to provide for the wants of his family. But one summer he fell ill, and as they were too poor to buy good food and medicine he grew worse and worse, till at length his recovery seemed almost hopeless.
One day the patient wife thought of a good old hermit who lived in the neighboring forest, and who often gave advice to the poor cottagers. He had cured many a one with medicine made from plants and other homely remedies. She, therefore, called her boys and bade them go and ask the hermit what could be done for their sick father.
“The good man may send you to gather healing plants,” she said, “such as he often points out to the villagers. Be sure to follow his directions carefully and above all, do not loiter on the way.” She divided a rye-cake between them, to eat by the way, and off started the two boys for the forest. No sooner had they reached it than they saw from afar an old huntsman smoking his pipe under a tree.
“Oh!” cried Winikin, forgetting his mother’s caution, “there is old Roger! Let’s go to him instead of to the hermit. He always tells us such pleasant stories.”
“But father is very sick and mother told us not to loiter on the way,” said Finikin.
“Surely,” said Winikin, “Roger’s advice will be as good as the hermit’s. I shall not go any farther.”
So Finikin trudged on alone to the good old man’s cell where he found him making medicine from herbs he had gathered in the forest.
“Good hermit,” said Finikin eagerly, “will you not give me some of your medicine for my sick father?”
“I will, indeed,” said the old man. “But my child there is something more than these herbs needed to cure your father; and it must be fetched from a long distance.”
“I will go anywhere for it,” declared Finikin, quickly.
“Then my son,” replied the hermit, “you must go to a garden five or six miles off. None but little children like yourself can enter; therefore, it would be of no use if I or any other grown person attempted to go with you. This garden is situated on top of a cluster of high rocks. Should you have the perseverance to reach it, you will find it full of trees, bearing all kinds of fruit which several little boys always keep gathering. You must ask them to give you some golden pippins for your father. If they consent all will be well; but if they try to keep you to play with them, you must not stay, for the hours would pass so quickly, that your father might die before you returned.”
Finikin listened very carefully. “Please tell me the way to this wonderful garden,” he said.
The hermit opened the door at the back of his cell, which led to a small piece of ground where he grew his vegetables. He showed Finikin a kind of tunnel hollowed out in a grotto through which he could see a distant view of green meadows and blue mountains, and told him that way would lead him in the right direction. He then described carefully all the objects the lad was to pass on the road, and told him above all things neither to idle as he went along nor listen to anyone who should offer to show him a shorter way. Finikin promised he would not, and thanking the hermit, lost no time in starting off to find the wonderful garden where the golden pippins grew.
Winikin, meanwhile, after losing at least half an hour talking to the old huntsman, and playing with his dog, suddenly thought how heartless he had been, and asked Roger to tell what he had better do to help his father to get well.
“Do not stand idling here, youngster, for one thing,” said Roger; “and next go and ask advice of the hermit, who knows better than anyone else what can be done to save your father!”
“Oh! but my brother has gone there, so it is of no use for me to go too,” said Winikin; “and he is too far for me to catch him, so please tell me something else I can do instead!”
The huntsman thought awhile, and at last said: “I have heard of a wonderful garden some three miles east of the forest, where all kinds of fruits made of precious stones grow all the year round. The currants are rubies, the apples are topazes, and the plums are amethysts or sapphires. If you are able to reach this garden and gather a basketful of cherries you might enrich yourself and family for life; and then your father might have the best doctors. He would want for nothing and might soon get well.”
Winikin was delighted at the idea of such a garden, and asked Roger to show him the way to it.
The old huntsman then took him to a kind of grotto that was so completely hidden by brushwood that the little boy had never seen it before though he had often crossed that part of the forest. When the twigs that choked up the entry had been put aside he saw a hollow passage and a view of distant meadows and hills. Then Roger carefully described all the objects the lad was to pass on the road, so that he could not miss the way. Also, he bade him not to loiter on the way for fear he should not be back by nightfall.
Winikin now entered the grotto but kept stopping every minute to admire its pretty sparkling walls, which glistened like diamonds and rubies as a sunbeam shone through the narrow opening. At last, however, he came out into the open meadows, in a part of a country which he had never seen before. Here he met a beautiful little boy with golden locks and cheeks as blooming as a ripe peach. He was carrying a couple of hoops on his arm.
“Will you come and play with me?” asked the little stranger whose name was Goldlocks.
“Why,” said Winikin slowly, thinking of the huntsman’s advice not to loiter on the way, “I should like that very much, but I’m going to a beautiful garden beyond the hills and I’m afraid of being too late.”
“Oh, don’t fear that,” said the little boy, “for we will trundle our hoops that way. You will get on much faster with a hoop than without one. Come!”
The lad offered Winikin one of the hoops which were made of finely worked silver. Also, there was a small ivory stick to trundle it with.
Winikin could not resist. He took a beautiful hoop and stick from Goldlocks who said:
“Once, twice, thrice, away!” and off they went like the wind.
Winikin thought to reach the hills in about five minutes, but at a turn in the road little Goldlocks kept trundling on his hoop faster than before.
Winikin suspected they were not taking the shortest road to the hills, but fearing Goldlocks would win the game he sped after him as fast as he could.
At length Winikin stopped and was panting for breath. Goldlocks laughed and stopped, too, saying, “There’s enough of hoop-trundling!” and he flung them over a hedge into a neighbouring field. “Now we’ll stop and rest and play at marbles.”
Then he drew from his pocket some pearls as large and round as other children’s marbles and Winikin, who dearly loved this game, could not resist playing.
“I have come along so fast,” he said to himself, “that no time will be lost.”
It was now high noon and the sun had grown so hot that Winikin felt tired and thirsty.
“Let us go into this wood and gather strawberries,” said Goldlocks.
Winikin thought the idea was excellent, so he said, “Yes, we shall get on faster after we have eaten some fruit.”
Accordingly, the little boys went into the wood, and, in about five minutes, Goldlocks had gathered enough strawberries to fill Winikin’s hat. They were larger and more delicious than any he had ever tasted before.
When Winikin had eaten his fill, he wished to go on.
“Oh!” said his companion, “it is still too hot to walk fast. If you wait awhile under the shade of this pretty wood, you will get on all the better a little later in the afternoon.”
“All right,” said Winikin, and the lads sat down on the grass. Goldlocks now drew from his pocket a humming top and set it spinning. It was made of a single carbuncle and was topped at each end with a diamond. It was called a humming top but it should have been called a musical top for the sounds it gave forth were as beautiful as an Eolian harp, and they formed distinct tunes. Winikin listened in speechless joy, till at length, tired out with play and amusement, he fell fast asleep.
Little Finikin, meanwhile, on getting out into the meadows, carefully noticed all the objects the hermit had described, so as to be sure to lose neither time nor way till at last he came to a field where he saw a little boy sitting on a bank, and crying bitterly.
Finikin felt so sorry for him that he stopped and said, “What is the matter?”
“Oh,” cried he, “I am waiting for someone to play with. My name is Brownlocks. Who are you?”
“I am Finikin,” said our little friend, “but I cannot stop to play. I am trying to find an orchard of wonderful fruit. I shall take some of it back to my sick father. The fruit will help to cure him.”
“Play with me awhile,” said Brownlocks. “I can take you to a garden where you will find better fruit than that which grows in the orchard you are looking for.”
But Finikin remembered the hermit’s words and persisted in going on his way. When he looked to see if the little boy was following him, Finikin found he had disappeared.
Finikin hurried on, and at length the scenery began to grow wilder as he came near the end of his journey. The rocks were higher and more abrupt and the vegetation more luxuriant, and soon in great joy he stopped, looked at the top of a great pile of rocks, and cried out, “There is the wonderful garden! It looks like a giant basket of fruit and flowers! How shall I ever climb up to it!”
Finikin went round the base of the rocks and looked carefully to see if he could find a path leading to the summit. No such thing was to be found but he saw a cleft between two rocks over which fell a cascade. The water had shrunk to a mere thread because the season had been very dry. Either the work of nature or the hand of man had formed rocks into rough steps, which were almost covered with a sheet of water. Finikin determined to climb the steps although they were slippery and dangerous. Slowly and carefully he made his way to the top where a hedge formed a circle round the garden. He crept through the prickly bushes and saw before him an earthly paradise. The grass was dotted over with every variety of rare, richly coloured flowers; the trees were loaded with fruit that shone like precious stones; the air was studded with the gayest butterflies; and birds with gold and silver plumage were hopping from branch to branch and trilling the sweetest songs.
Though Finikin was dazzled and charmed by all he saw, he walked on without stopping until he came to some little boys who were gathering plums.
“Who comes here?” said the boys on seeing the little stranger. “And how did you get into our garden?”
“I come from the hermit in the forest,” cried Finikin. “He said you could give me some pippins that would cure my father.”
“Oh! if you come from the hermit you shall have some pippins,” said one of the boys who was Brownlocks. “Only you must gather them yourself.”
Then they led Finikin to another tree with a trunk as smooth and shining as glass. Golden pippins grew on the great branches at the top of the tree.
“Gather as many as you like,” said the little boys.
Finikin then began to climb the tree. He kept slipping down every moment and, strange to say, the trunk kept growing higher and higher as if it would reach the sky.
Now it happened that Finikin had a lot of chalk in his pocket. By crumbling it to pieces in his hands he managed to grasp the tree trunk firmly and after many patient efforts he reached the top of the tree. He now filled his hat and pockets with pippins that were as clear as topazes. The fruit was very heavy and when Finikin began to descend the tree his load of pippins was so heavy that it dragged him down faster and faster until he reached the ground. It was now twilight. The boys had picked up all their plums and had gone.
Finikin looked around in all directions, and finally, he discovered in the distance a gleam of light. He walked quickly up to it and found it came from a fruit storehouse of white marble. Here were silver filigree baskets filled with every kind of fruit and arranged neatly on shelves. All the fruit in the silver baskets was soft and eatable, while that in the golden baskets was turned to precious stones! The dark plums were sapphires and amethysts; the greengages and gooseberries, emeralds; the cherries, garnets; the white-hearts, rubies, dark on one side and almost white on the other; the black currants, black pearls. A number of beautiful empty baskets were hanging on gold and silver hooks.
Here Finikin found one of the boys, who wished him joy of his success, and after helping him to empty his pippins into a gold basket, the lad led Finikin down a flight of greenish marble steps into a beautiful hall which was lighted up with mother-of-pearl lamps hanging from the ceiling. Here in the center of the room supper was laid. The table was of citron-wood, and round the board were set cedar stools. On the walls countless toys of every description hung on golden hooks.
Finikin was so hungry after his day’s work that he was glad enough to sit down and eat his supper.
When their meal was over Brownlocks said: “Now, Finikin, we will play some games.”
But Finikin begged leave to go, as it was already late and he was afraid he could not reach home till the night was half spent.
“If you are afraid of being out in the night,” said one of the little friends, “you may stay and sleep in the empty bed of one of our comrades who is absent; and to-morrow, at sunrise, we will go with you a part of the way, and play together as we go along.”
“I must not stay,” said Finikin. “My father is very ill, dear friends, and I hope to reach home before it is too late.”
“You shall do as you like,” said the boys. Then one of them took down from the wall a stick with a nag’s head.
“Take this toy with you,” he said.
It was a very simple toy, but Finikin was delighted with the gift.
“It will carry you six times as fast as a horse, wherever you wish to go,” cried the little boys.
Finikin clapped his hands for joy and said, “May I have a toy for Winikin, my brother?”
“No,” they said, “Winikin must come himself for a toy. We cannot send him one.”
Finikin thanked the lads and wished them good-night.
“Good-night, Finikin,” they cried; “you may come to see us every Midsummer Eve on your nag. He will always find the way although you couldn’t. Good-night!”
So Finikin left Magic Toyland. As soon as he was out-of-doors and had placed his basket of pippins on his arm he mounted his stick with the nag’s head.
Away he started! He had scarcely time to wonder how he should manage to ride down the steep rocks. He seemed to be sinking deeper and deeper and without knowing how, he found himself in the long narrow passage leading to the hermit’s garden.
All this time Winikin lay asleep in the woods. The sun was low in the western sky when he opened his eyes and saw Goldlocks sitting on the grass playing with a cup and ball.
“Lend me that plaything,” said Winikin.
“No,” said Goldlocks, “I have something which two of us can play with.”
He pointed to a couple of golden drums covered with finest vellum that were lying in the grass. The drumsticks were of ebony inlaid with mother-of-pearl.
“We’ll play hide-and seek,” he said. “I’ll hide first and then I will beat my drum and you must try to guess from the sound where I am.”
“That will be good fun,” said Winikin.
Goldlocks ran and hid himself. At the beating of the drum Winikin found him quite easily. Then Winikin hid but he had hardly struck the drum with his stick until there was Goldlocks! So they played for some time but at last Goldlocks hid himself so well that, though he kept beating his drum, Winikin could not find him. He ran to the right and to the left but it was of no use. The sound seemed to come from all directions at once. He tapped his own drum, and cried out, “Come back, Goldlocks! Where are you? Come back!”
He beat his drum so hard that it snapped! It was growing very dark! The brambles grew thicker at every step! The sound of Goldlocks’ drum was growing fainter and fainter until at last Winikin could not hear it at all. He scratched his hands and tore his clothes at every step, but at last he found a path which led out of the thick wood.
He walked along until he came to a small lake; “Oh! what shall I do,” he cried. “I’ve missed the way old Roger told me to take! Where shall I stay to-night!”
In a little while he saw Goldlocks with smiling face coming towards him. The lad carried a couple of battledores, covered with silver nets. The handles were of richly carved gold. He had a shuttlecock, too, which was made from the plumes of a hummingbird.
“Why, what is the matter?” asked Goldlocks.
“Oh! I thought you had run away, and left me,” cried Winikin. “And I’ve lost my way! I don’t know what to do.”
“Let’s play a game of battledore,” was Goldlocks’ answer.
Winikin dried his tears and said. “Tell me where you get such pretty toys.”
“I’ve plenty more at home, and prettier ones than these,” replied his companion.
“I wish you would take me home with you,” said Winikin. “Where do you live?”
“There across the lake,” said the little boy, pointing to some distant hills.
The lads now played a game of battledore and kept tossing the shuttlecock higher and higher till at last it fell into the lake at a great distance, but remained floating on the surface.
“Let us jump in and see who will catch it first,” said Goldlocks.
Away he darted into the water, and soon swam out of sight among the bulrushes that grew on an islet in the middle of the lake. Winikin believed he could swim, too, so into the water he jumped. In the dusk a white water-lily looked like the lost shuttlecock. Poor Winikin snatched at it, lost his balance, and fell down in the water. He tried to scream out to his companion, but he could not make a sound. After this he could not remember what took place.
Luckily the lake was not deep; he quickly rose to the surface and the gentle waves bore him to the shore where he lay insensible for several hours.
It was near daybreak when Winikin came to his senses again. He stared about wondering whether it was all a dream, or whether he had really played with Goldlocks the day before. Then he saw one of the battledores lying besides him and the lost shuttlecock.
“I had better stop here, or else he won’t find me if he returns,” thought Winikin.
He looked up and saw a little boy galloping along as fast as his wooden horse would carry him! It was Finikin!
The good little fellow had carried home his basket of fruit and had seen his father improve after eating one of the golden pippins. Then he had gone to find Roger, the huntsman, who said he had sent Winikin to the magical garden. Away went Finikin at full speed, like a small knight-errant, to seek his brother.
Of course Winikin was ashamed when he heard what his brother had done.
“I shall go to the wonderful garden and bring back a basket of cherries,” he cried. “Perhaps they will give me a hobby-horse! Nothing shall tempt me again to idle on the way. Will you not lend me your wooden nag, brother!”
“Yes, take it and hurry along,” said Finikin.
“Gee-ho!” cried Winikin striding the stick. But the nag would not stir a bit faster than other sticks that children play with.
“Come!” said Finikin. “Get up behind me!”
Away went the little lads on the wooden horse. In a little while they came to the foot of the rocks, where Finikin left his brother. Then Finikin galloped home for the little boys had told him not to come again until Midsummer Eve.
When he was gone Winikin sat down and wondered how he should ever reach the garden. Perhaps the little boys would come out and help him. At least he would let them know where he was. He began to toss up the shuttlecock. Away it soared as if it had wings and lighted on a tree in the garden. At this moment a few red streaks were seen in the sky and the little boys came out into the garden. One of them saw the shuttlecock!
“Who is there?” he cried.
“My name is Winikin. I am Finikin’s twin brother,” was the answer.
“What do you want?” asked the boy in the garden.
“I want to see your pretty toys! and I want a basket of cherries,” said Winikin.
The garden lads let down a basket and drew him up. There was Goldlocks as merry and mischievous looking as ever.
“You left me in the water, Goldlocks!” said Winikin to his playfellow.
“Yes, I had lost too much time to stay any longer,” said Goldlocks. “Come, let us have breakfast.”
They all sat down on the grass under the trees and feasted on strawberries and cream served in the finest porcelain bowls.
After breakfast Winikin said, “Now let us play.”
“Oh! we must gather fruit first! There is work to be done. You had better gather your basket of cherries,” said one of the lads. “The cherry trees are over there. Gather a basketful from the one which stands in the middle.” The lads then went about their work.
With his usual idle habits Winikin began plucking flowers and chasing butterflies. When his little friends came to fetch him to play games, they found he was not a jot farther than when they left him.
“We can’t play with you, Winikin, until you have gathered your fruit,” said Goldlocks.
And then he laid a golden trap-ball down on the grass, and the five little boys began to play merrily.
Winikin saw that he must work before he could join them at play so he began to climb the tree. What a long time it took him to reach the top. The fine cherries which were white-hearts were so ripe and juicy you may be sure he ate a good many of them. But at last he filled his pockets, descended the tree and lay down on the grass tired out with his work.
After a time the lads came to fetch him to dinner. They first led him through the fruit-chamber where they helped him to empty his pockets into a silver filigree basket.
“Put all you have brought into the basket,” said one of the lads; “for your cherries will harden into rubies in two or three days. Come now into the hall where dinner is ready.”
Winikin could scarcely eat for looking at the toys in the magical hall. When the meal was over he asked leave to play with some of them.
The boys showed him a great many playthings he had never seen before but at last one of them said, “It is time to start, Winikin, if you wish to reach home before night.”
“Won’t you give me a little wooden nag like my brother’s?” asked Winikin.
“We haven’t another in our collection but you may have this toy,” they answered giving him an agate cup and ball fastened to a delicate gold chain.
Winikin was well pleased with this toy and taking up his basket, he followed the little boys down a long, long flight of steps which brought them to the bottom of the rocks where he saw a little crack just large enough for him to creep through.
“Do you see that large brown butterfly whose wings are tipped with dark blue?” asked Goldlocks. “Follow him. If you don’t lose sight of him he will show you the way.”
So Winikin started. The butterfly kept bobbing up and down, now lighting on this flower, and now on that. In fact Winikin could very easily keep up with him. But at a turn in the road a splendid butterfly rose out of a bush. Away darted Winikin after him although the lad noticed that the brown butterfly went in the opposite direction.
“I can soon catch up with old Browncoat again,” thought Winikin.
Sunwings, the beautiful butterfly, led Winikin a fine dance over bank and bush, but at last the lad was obliged to give up the chase. He was a little surprised to find that he had lost some of his cherries in running after the golden butterfly.
“I’ll go back and find old Browncoat,” he said to himself. “After all the loss of a few cherries does not matter much. How thirsty I am. A few cherries will refresh me.”
So he sat down and ate several and then took out his cup and ball to amuse himself. After awhile he got up and again tried to find his way.
“How hungry and thirsty I am,” he thought, taking one cherry after another from his basket until it was almost emptied.
After wandering about until twilight he found himself at the foot of the rocks on top of which was the magic garden. He tried to find the crevice through which he had crept out that morning but a foaming cascade was dashing down over it.
He shouted at the top of his voice, “I’ve lost my way, boys. Let me eat supper with you in the hall of toys and sleep here for the night.”
“We have eaten supper,” answered the boys; “but you shall have some. We can’t let you stay all night for we have no spare bed.”
They let down a basket and drew Winikin up as before and after taking him into the hall they went to bed. After he had eaten a hearty meal the boys called out to him to put out the lights and leave.
“But,” said Winikin, “how am I to get out of the garden?”
Goldlocks peeped out of his snowy bed and said, “There is a bat outside which will show you the way, and if you follow him better than you did the butterfly you will reach home in fairly good time.”
Then Winikin put out the lamps in the sleeping-room, but before he put out the lights in the large hall he couldn’t resist sauntering around once more to look at the toys. When he reached the door that led to the fruit-chamber he thought he might as well fill up his basket again, as a few cherries could not be missed from such a quantity. This he did. Then fearing the boys would chide him for his delay he began to put out the lights. Very foolishly he started with the one nearest the outer door, so that by the time he reached the end of the long hall and put out the last lamp, he found himself in the dark.
Winikin was now so frightened that he didn’t know what to do, for, if he tried to move in the dark he would be sure to overturn the table or the stools, so he cowered down in the corner hoping the boys would fall asleep and forget him, and that next morning he might escape before they were up. But presently he heard the boys get up very softly and come into the hall saying, “There’s a thief here!” Winikin held his breath, and hoped to escape without notice; but they marched up to the corner where he lay hid just as if it had been broad daylight. Each had a rod in his hand and Winikin received a sound thrashing. At last he cried out, “It is only I. Don’t hurt me!”
Then they stopped and dragged Winikin out of the hall. They emptied the basket of the cherries he had taken, which were easily distinguished from the others, as in his hurry he had helped himself out of a golden basket to some cherries that had hardened into rubies. Then the lads fetched an ivory ladder of great length and putting it over the hedge they forced him to leave the garden at once.
Winikin cried bitterly when he saw the ladder taken up again but at last he began to think he had better make the best of a bad bargain. So he set off and, as Goldlocks had promised, a bat flew before him to show him the way.
For awhile he followed his leader carefully and made good resolutions as he went along, but alas! Suddenly a troop of fireflies flitted past him, and he said to himself, “How much better they would light me than this tiresome bat which keeps flapping his wings in my eyes! The fireflies are like so many lanterns and surely they’ll know the way best.” But they led him into a bog where he spent the night.
When morning dawned, he looked round for some hut where he could ask his way, but he recollected to his horror that neither yesterday nor the day before had he seen even a single being stirring anywhere. He saw that he was within a charmed circle, and kept turning to no purpose. After toiling for some time he again recognized familiar objects, and the well-known garden in the distance. Winikin hardly dared again apply to the little boys, yet having eaten all the cherries to appease his hunger, and seeing no chance of freeing himself from his desperate position, he went to the rocks and clapped hands. Presently the boys appeared.
“Who dares to come a third time unbidden?” said they.
“Alas!” cried the foolish wanderer, “I have again lost my way, and eaten all the cherries. Please take pity and let me come up.”
“No,” said they, “you do not deserve to come into our garden any more; and as you are not to be trusted to go home, and we don’t wish to be disturbed by you again, we shall now send you back.”
So saying, they disappeared for a moment, and soon crept o