Where to Lay the Blame.

Twilight Land

by Howard Pyle

Many and many a man has come to trouble--so he will say--by
following his wife's advice. This is how it was with a man of whom I
shall tell you.

There was once upon a time a fisherman who had fished all day
long and had caught not so much as a sprat. So at night there he sat
by the fire, rubbing his knees and warming his shins, and waiting for
supper that his wife was cooking for him, and his hunger was as sharp
as vinegar, and his temper hot enough to fry fat.

While he sat there grumbling and growling and trying to make
himself comfortable and warm, there suddenly came a knock at the
door. The good woman opened it, and there stood an old man, clad all
in red from head to foot, and with a snowy beard at his chin as white
as winter snow.

The fisherman's wife stood gaping and staring at the strange
figure, but the old man in red walked straight into the hut. "Bring
your nets, fisherman," said he, "and come with me. There is something
that I want you to catch for me, and if I have luck I will pay you
for your fishing as never fisherman was paid before."

"Not I," said the fisherman, "I go out no more this night. I
have been fishing all day long until my back is nearly broken, and
have caught nothing, and now I am not such a fool as to go out and
leave a warm fire and a good supper at your bidding."

But the fisherman's wife had listened to what the old man had
said about paying for the job, and she was of a different mind from
her husband. "Come," said she, "the old man promises to pay you well.
This is not a chance to be lost, I can tell you, and my advice to you
is that you go."

The fisherman shook his head. No, he would not go; he had said
he would not, and he would not. But the wife only smiled and said
again, "My advice to you is that you go."

The fisherman grumbled and grumbled, and swore that he would not
go. The wife said nothing but one thing. She did not argue; she did
not lose her temper; she only said to everything that he said, "My
advice to you is that you go."

At last the fisherman's anger boiled over. "Very well," said he,
spitting his words at her; "if you will drive me out into the night,
I suppose I will have to go." And then he spoke the words that so
many men say: "Many a man has come to trouble by following his wife's
advice."

Then down he took his fur cap and up he took his nets, and off
he and the old man marched through the moonlight, their shadows
bobbing along like black spiders behind them.

Well, on they went, out from the town and across the fields and
through the woods, until at last they came to a dreary, lonesome
desert, where nothing was to be seen but gray rocks and weeds and
thistles.

"Well," said the fisherman, "I have fished, man and boy, for
forty-seven years, but never did I see as unlikely a place to catch
anything as this."

But the old man said never a word. First of all he drew a great
circle with strange figures, marking it with his finger upon the
ground. Then out from under his red gown he brought a tinder-box and
steel, and a little silver casket covered all over with strange
figures of serpents and dragons and what not. He brought some sticks
of spice-wood from his pouch, and then he struck a light and made a
fire. Out of the box he took a gray powder, which he flung upon the
little blaze.

Puff! flash! A vivid flame went up into the moonlight, and then
a dense smoke as black as ink, which spread out wider and wider, far
and near, till all below was darker than the darkest midnight. Then
the old man began to utter strange spells and words. Presently there
began a rumbling that sounded louder and louder and nearer and
nearer, until it roared and bellowed like thunder. The earth rocked
and swayed, and the poor fisherman shook and trembled with fear till
his teeth clattered in his head.

Then suddenly the roaring and bellowing ceased, and all was as
still as death, though the darkness was as thick and black as
ever.

"Now," said the old magician--for such he was--"now we are about
to take a journey such as no one ever travelled before. Heed well
what I tell you. Speak not a single word, for if you do, misfortune
will be sure to happen."

"Ain't I to say anything?" said the fisherman.

"No."

"Not even boo' to a goose?"

"No."

"Well, that is pretty hard upon a man who likes to say his say,"
said the fisherman.

"And moreover," said the old man, "I must blindfold you as
well."

Thereupon he took from his pocket a handkerchief, and made ready
to tie it about the fisherman's eyes.

"And ain't I to see anything at all?" said the fisherman.

"No."

"Not even so much as a single feather?"

"No."

"Well, then," said the fisherman, "I wish I'd not come."

But the old man tied the handkerchief tightly around his eyes,
and then he was as blind as a bat.

"Now," said the old man, "throw your leg over what you feel and
hold fast."

The fisherman reached down his hand, and there felt the back of
something rough and hairy. He flung his leg over it, and whisk!
whizz! off he shot through the air like a sky-rocket. Nothing was
left for him to do but grip tightly with hands and feet and to hold
fast. On they went, and on they went, until, after a great while,
whatever it was that was carrying him lit upon the ground, and there
the fisherman found himself standing, for that which had brought him
had gone.

The old man whipped the handkerchief off his eyes, and there the
fisherman found himself on the shores of the sea, where there was
nothing to be seen but water upon one side and rocks and naked sand
upon the other.

"This is the place for you to cast your nets," said the old
magician; "for if we catch nothing here we catch nothing at all."

The fisherman unrolled his nets and cast them and dragged them,
and then cast them and dragged them again, but neither time caught so
much as a herring. But the third time that he cast he found that he
had caught something that weighed as heavy as lead. He pulled and
pulled, until by-and-by he dragged the load ashore, and what should
it be but a great chest of wood, blackened by the sea-water, and
covered with shells and green moss.

That was the very thing that the magician had come to fish
for.

From his pouch the old man took a little golden key, which he
fitted into a key-hole in the side of the chest. He threw back the
lid; the fisherman looked within, and there was the prettiest little
palace that man's eye ever beheld, all made of mother-of-pearl and
silver-frosted as white as snow. The old magician lifted the little
palace out of the box and set it upon the ground.

Then, lo and behold! a marvellous thing happened; for the palace
instantly began to grow for all the world like a soap-bubble, until
it stood in the moonlight gleaming and glistening like snow, the
windows bright with the lights of a thousand wax tapers, and the
sound of music and voices and laughter coming from within.

Hardly could the fisherman catch his breath from one strange
thing when another happened. The old magician took off his clothes
and his face--yes, his face--for all the world as though it had been
a mask, and there stood as handsome and noble a young man as ever the
light looked on. Then, beckoning to the fisherman, dumb with wonder,
he led the way up the great flight of marble steps to the palace
door. As he came the door swung open with a blaze of light, and there
stood hundreds of noblemen, all clad in silks and satins and velvets,
who, when they saw the magician, bowed low before him, as though he
had been a king. Leading the way, they brought the two through halls
and chambers and room after room, each more magnificent than the
other, until they came to one that surpassed a hundredfold any of the
others.

At the farther end was a golden throne, and upon it sat a lady
more lovely and beautiful than a dream, her eyes as bright as
diamonds, her cheeks like rose leaves, and her hair like spun gold.
She came half-way down the steps of the throne to welcome the
magician, and when the two met they kissed one another before all
those who were looking on. Then she brought him to the throne and
seated him beside her, and there they talked for a long time very
earnestly.

Nobody said a word to the fisherman, who stood staring about him
like an owl. "I wonder," said he to himself at last, "if they will
give a body a bite to eat by-and-by?" for, to tell the truth, the
good supper that he had come away from at home had left a sharp
hunger gnawing at his insides, and he longed for something good and
warm to fill the empty place. But time passed, and not so much as a
crust of bread was brought to stay his stomach.

By-and-by the clock struck twelve, and then the two who sat upon
the throne arose. The beautiful lady took the magician by the hand,
and, turning to those who stood around, said, in a loud voice,
"Behold him who alone is worthy to possess the jewel of jewels! Unto
him do I give it, and with it all power of powers!" Thereon she
opened a golden casket that stood beside her, and brought thence a
little crystal ball, about as big as a pigeon's egg, in which was
something that glistened like a spark of fire. The magician took the
crystal ball and thrust it into his bosom; but what it was the
fisherman could not guess, and if you do not know I shall not tell
you.

Then for the first time the beautiful lady seemed to notice the
fisherman. She beckoned him, and when he stood beside her two men
came carrying a chest. The chief treasurer opened it, and it was full
of bags of gold money. "How will you have it?" said the beautiful
lady.

"Have what?" said the fisherman.

"Have the pay for your labor?" said the beautiful lady.

"I will," said the fisherman, promptly, "take it in my hat."

"So be it," said the beautiful lady. She waved her hand, and the
chief treasurer took a bag from the chest, untied it, and emptied a
cataract of gold into the fur cap. The fisherman had never seen so
much wealth in all his life before, and he stood like a man turned to
stone.

"Is this all mine?" said the fisherman.

"It is," said the beautiful lady.

"Then God bless your pretty eyes," said the fisherman.

Then the magician kissed the beautiful lady, and, beckoning to
the fisherman, left the throne-room the same way that they had come.
The noblemen, in silks and satins and velvets, marched ahead, and
back they went through the other apartments, until at last they came
to the door.

Out they stepped, and then what do you suppose happened?

If the wonderful palace had grown like a bubble, like a bubble
it vanished. There the two stood on the sea-shore, with nothing to be
seen but rocks and sand and water, and the starry sky overhead.

The fisherman shook his cap of gold, and it jingled and tinkled,
and was as heavy as lead. If it was not all a dream, he was rich for
life. "But anyhow," said he, "they might have given a body a bite to
eat."

The magician put on his red clothes and his face again, making
himself as hoary and as old as before. He took out his flint and
steel, and his sticks of spice-wood and his gray powder, and made a
great fire and smoke just as he had done before. Then again he tied
his handkerchief over the fisherman's eyes. "Remember," said he,
"what I told you when we started upon our journey. Keep your mouth
tight shut, for if you utter so much as a single word you are a lost
man. Now throw your leg over what you feel and hold fast."

The fisherman had his net over one arm and his cap of gold in
the other hand; nevertheless, there he felt the same hairy thing he
had felt before. He flung his leg over it, and away he was gone
through the air like a sky-rocket.

Now, he had grown somewhat used to strange things by this time,
so he began to think that he would like to see what sort of a
creature it was upon which he was riding thus through the sky. So he
contrived, in spite of his net and cap, to push up the handkerchief
from over one eye. Out he peeped, and then he saw as clear as day
what the strange steed was.

He was riding upon a he-goat as black as night, and in front of
him was the magician riding upon just such another, his great red
robe fluttering out behind him in the moonlight like huge red
wings.

"Great herring and little fishes!" roared the fisherman; "it is
a billy-goat!"

Instantly goats, old man, and all were gone like a flash. Down
fell the fisherman through the empty sky, whirling over and over and
around and around like a frog. He held tightly to his net, but away
flew his fur cap, the golden money falling in a shower like sparks of
yellow light. Down he fell and down he fell, until his head spun like
a top.

By good-luck his house was just below, with its thatch of soft
rushes. Into the very middle of it he tumbled, and right through the
thatch--bump!--into the room below.

The good wife was in bed, snoring away for dear life; but such a
noise as the fisherman made coming into the house was enough to wake
the dead. Up she jumped, and there she sat, staring and winking with
sleep, and with her brains as addled as a duck's egg in a
thunder-storm.

"There!" said the fisherman, as he gathered himself up and
rubbed his shoulder, "that is what comes of following a woman's
advice!"

All the good folk clapped their hands, not so much because of
the story itself, but because it was a woman who told it.

"Aye, aye," said the brave little Tailor, "there is truth in
what you tell, fair lady, and I like very well the way in which you
have told it."

"Whose turn is it next?" said Doctor Faustus, lighting a fresh
pipe of tobacco.

" Tis the turn of yonder old gentleman," said the Soldier who
cheated the Devil, and he pointed with the stem of his pipe to the
Fisherman who unbottled the Genie that King Solomon had corked up and
thrown into the sea. "Every one else hath told a story, and now it is
his turn."

"I will not deny, my friend, that what you say is true, and that
it is my turn," said the Fisherman. "Nor will I deny that I have
already a story in my mind. It is," said he, "about a certain prince,
and of how he went through many and one adventures, and at last
discovered that which is--