The Pig Brother, and Other Fables and Stories

Every window-pane;
Kissed the leaves and made them blush,
Blush and blush again.

Jacky Frost, Jacky Frost,
Crept around the house,
Sly as a silver fox,
Still as a mouse.
Out little Jenny came,
Blushing like a rose;
Up jumped Jacky Frost,
And pinched her little nose.

THE CAKE

Once a Cake would go seek his fortune in the world, and he took his leave of the Pan he was baked in.

“I know my destiny,” said the Cake. “I must be eaten, since to that end I was made; but I am a good cake, if I say it who should not, and I would fain choose the persons I am to benefit.”

“I don’t see what difference it makes to you!” said the Pan.

“But imagination is hardly your strong point!” said the Cake.

“Huh!” said the Pan.

The Cake went on his way, and soon he passed by a cottage door where sat a woman spinning, and her ten children playing about her.

“Oh!” said the woman, “what a beautiful cake!” and she put out her hand to take him.

“Be so good as to wait a moment!” said the Cake. “Will you kindly tell me what you would do with me if I should yield myself up to you?”

“I shall break you into ten pieces,” said the woman, “and give one to each of my ten children. So you will give ten pleasures, and that is a good thing.”

“Oh, that would be very nice, I am sure,” said the Cake; “but if you will excuse me for mentioning it, your children seem rather dirty, especially their hands, and I confess I should like to keep my frosting unsullied, so I think I will go a little further.”

“As you will!” said the woman. “After all, the brown loaf is better for the children.”

So the Cake went further, and met a fair child, richly dressed, with coral lips and eyes like sunlit water. When the child saw the Cake, he said like the woman, “Oh, what a beautiful Cake!” and put out his hand to take it.

“I am sure I should be most happy!” said the Cake. “And you will not take it amiss, I am confident, if I ask with whom you will share me.”

“I shall not share you with any one!” said the child. “I shall eat you myself, every crumb. What do you take me for?”

“Good gracious!” cried the Cake. “This will never do. Consider my size, – and yours! You would be very ill!”

“I don’t care!” said the child. “I’d rather be ill than give any away.” And he fixed greedy eyes on the Cake, and stretched forth his hand again.

“This is really terrible!” cried the Cake. “What is one’s frosting to this? I will go back to the woman with the ten children.”

He turned and ran back, leaving the child screaming with rage and disappointed greed. But as he ran, a hungry Puppy met him, and swallowed him at a gulp, and went on licking his chops and wagging his tail.

“Huh!” said the Pan.

“OH, DEAR!”

Chimborazo was a very unhappy boy. He pouted, and he sulked, and he said, “Oh, dear! oh, dear! oh, dear! oh, dear!” He said it till everybody was tired of hearing it.

“Chimborazo,” his mother would say, “please don’t say, ‘Oh, dear!’ any more. It is very annoying. Say something else.”

“Oh, dear!” the boy would answer, “I can’t! I don’t know anything else to say. Oh, dear! Oh, dear!! oh, DEAR!!!”

One day his mother could not bear it any longer, and she sent for his fairy godmother, and told her all about it.

“Humph!” said the fairy godmother. “I will see to it. Send the boy to me!”

So Chimborazo was sent for, and came, hanging his head as usual. When he saw his fairy godmother, he said, “Oh, dear!” for he was rather afraid of her.

“‘Oh, dear!’ it is!” said the godmother sharply; and she put on her spectacles and looked at him. “Do you know what a bell-punch is?”

“Oh, dear!” said Chimborazo. “No, ma’am, I don’t!”

“Well,” said the godmother, “I am going to give you one.”

“Oh, dear!” said Chimborazo, “I don’t want one.”

“Probably not,” replied she, “but that doesn’t make much difference. You have it now, in your jacket pocket.”

Chimborazo felt in his pocket, and took out a queer-looking instrument of shining metal. “Oh, dear!” he said.

“‘Oh, dear!’ it is!” said the fairy godmother. “Now,” she continued, “listen to me, Chimborazo! I am going to put you on an allowance of ‘Oh, dears.’ This is a self-acting bell-punch, and it will ring whenever you say ‘Oh, dear!’ How many times do you generally say it in the course of the day?”

“Oh, dear!” said Chimborazo, “I don’t know. Oh, dear!”

“Ting! ting!” the bell-punch rang twice sharply; and looking at it in dismay, he saw two little round holes punched in a long slip of pasteboard which was fastened to the instrument.

“Exactly!” said the fairy. “That is the way it works, and a very pretty way, too. Now, my boy, I am going to make you a very liberal allowance. You may say ‘Oh, dear!’ forty-five times a day. There’s liberality for you!”

“Oh, dear!” cried Chimborazo, “I – ”

“Ting!” said the bell-punch.

“You see!” observed the fairy. “Nothing could be prettier. You have now had three of this day’s allowance. It is still some hours before noon, so I advise you to be careful. If you exceed the allowance – ” Here she paused, and glowered through her spectacles in a very dreadful manner.

“Oh, dear!” cried Chimborazo. “What will happen then?”

“You will see!” said the fairy godmother, with a nod. “Something will happen, you may be very sure of that. Good-by. Remember, only forty-five!” And away she flew out of the window.

“Oh, dear!” cried Chimborazo, bursting into tears. “I don’t want it! I won’t have it! Oh, dear! oh, dear! oh, dear! oh, dear! oh, DEAR!!!”

“Ting! ting! ting-ting-ting-ting!” said the bell-punch; and now there were ten round holes in the strip of pasteboard. Chimborazo was now really frightened. He was silent for some time; and when his mother called him to his lessons he tried very hard not to say the dangerous words. But the habit was so strong that he said them unconsciously. By dinnertime there were twenty-five holes in the cardboard strip; by tea-time there were forty! Poor Chimborazo! he was afraid to open his lips, for whenever he did the words would slip out in spite of him.