The Knight Of The Golden Melice - John Turvill Adams (little red riding hood read aloud txt) 📗

Be Notional

Things, He Murmured To Himself.

 

  

Spikeman Took The Hand.

  

 

"Now This Is Like Thyself, Philip," He Said--"A Brave Soldier--True As

A Toledo Blade--One Who Loves His Friend, And Hates His Enemy,

Although This Latter Part Should Not Be So. Thou Art Journeying, I

See, To The Knight's Place. Mayst Thou Find In Him A Patron, But It

Will Do No Harm To Say--Be On Thy Guard; One Old Friend Is Better Than

A Dozen New."

 

  

He Turned Away, And The Soldier, As He Looked After Him, Said--

 

 

 "There Is Truth In Thy Words, But Thou Art Ignorant That The Knight

And I Were Friends Long Before I Knew Thee."

 

Chapter VI (Nature I Court In Her Sequestered Haunts, By Mountain, Meadow, Streamlet, Grove Or Cell, Where The Poised Lark His Evening Ditty Chaunts, And Health, And Peace, And Contemplation Dwell.)

 

 

 

 Smollett.

  

 

So Long Had The Soldier Been Delayed By His Interviews With Prudence

And The Assistant, That It Was Not Until Past Noon That He Reached The

Knight's Residence. It Was A Large, Irregularly Built Log-Cabin, Or

Cottage, Covered With Thatch, Resembling Somewhat, Except In The Last

Particular, And In Being Larger, The Log-Cabins One Meets In The New

Settlements Of The West, With A Sort Of Piazza Or Porch, Which Seemed

To Have Been Lately Built, Running Across The Front. Such Was The Rude

Exterior; Though The Interior, As We Shall Presently See, When We

Enter The Building, Was Furnished In A Style Indicating Both Wealth

And Refinement. 

 

 

The House Stood Near The Bottom Of A Hill, Upon A Piece Of Cleared

Land Of Perhaps Half A Dozen Acres, Upon Which Not The Vestige Of A

Stump Was To Be Seen. The Ground Sloped Gently Away From The Building

To The Southeast, Until It Met A Small Stream, Which Meandered At The

Base Of The Hill, And Running In An Easterly Direction, Was Lost To

Sight In The Forest. In Front Of The House, At The Distance Of A Rod,

Bubbled Up A Bright Spring, Which, Dashing Down The Declivity, Fell

Into The First-Mentioned Stream. Except This Cultivated Spot, Which

Had Been An Old Corn-Field Of The Natives, Selected By Them For The

Fertility Of The Soil, Its Advantage Of Water, And The Favorable Slope

Of The Land, Which Enabled It To Engross More Than A Common Share Of

The Genial Heat Of The Sun, And Expedite The Maturing Of Its Harvests,

All Was One Unbroken Extent Of Forest. In The Soft Autumnal Days, When

The Maize Leaves Rustled Yellow On Their Stalks, It Must Have Looked

To The Soaring Eagle, Gazing From His "Pride Of Place," Like A Vast

Nest In A Green Leafy Frame.

 

  

Around This Building, At Some Little Distance, Viz., At The Edge Of

The Encircling Forest, Were Scattered Some Four Or Five Wigwams, Or

Indian Lodges, Made Of The Bark Of Trees, From Some Of Which Smoke

Curled Lazily Up Into The Blue Sky, Imparting Assurance Thereby Of

Their Being Inhabited, Though The Presence Of Some Naked Children Near

The Entrances, Who Were Shooting With Little Bows At Marks, And

Amusing Themselves In Other Ways, Made Any Such Indication

Unnecessary. 

 

 

As The Soldier Drew Near, He Heard More And More Distinctly Musical

Sounds, And Presently Could Distinguish The Tinkling Of A Guitar,

Accompanied By A Female Voice. He Stopped And Listened. The Air Was

Slow And Solemn, The Notes Were Soft And Clear, And The Words Sweet,

But Not English. There Was A Rich Luxuriance, Yet Pathos In The Music,

Like The Utterances Of A Spirit Whose Hopes Were Mingled With

Reminiscences Of Joys Which It Had Lost. How Long Philip Listened, He

Knew Not, So Entranced Was He By The Sounds. It Was A Long Time Since

He Had Heard Such Delicious Strains, And The Effect Upon Him Was

Therefore The Greater. Suddenly They Ceased, As If His Approach Had

Been Discovered, And Immediately Thereafter, A Man Stepped Out Upon

The Piazza. Philip Recognized Him At Once As The Young Man To Whom

Prudence Had Sent A Message, And Whom He Himself Had Called Master

Arundel.

  

 

He Was A Fair-Haired Youth Of Some Twenty-Three Or Four Years, With

That Clear, Bright Complexion So Common Among The English, And Which

They Owe To Their Foggy Climate And Habit Of Exercise In The Open Air.

Dark Blue Eyes Looked Out Joyously From A Handsome Face, Which Would

Have Been Effeminate, So Delicate Were The Features And Rosy The Tint

Of The Cheeks, But For A Brown Moustache, Which Shaded The Lip, And

Redeemed It From The Imputation. His Doublet And Hose Were Of A Dark

Green Cloth, As Was Also The Cap He Held In His Hand, And He Wore

Boots Made Of Yellow Leather, Reaching Above The Knee, And Full At The

Top. Around His Neck Was A White Band, Like Those Worn By The

Wealthier Colonists. This Young Gentleman First Spoke.

  

 

"Ha! Achilles, Or Coeur De Lion From Captivity," Or To Fashion My

Speech More Into The Humor Of This New World, "O, Daniel From The

Lion's Den, Greatly Doth My Heart Rejoice At Thy Deliverance."

"Welcome, Good Philip," He Added, In A More Natural Tone, Betraying

Some Sympathy, And Taking Him At The Same Time By The Hand; "Welcome

To Your Friends."

  

 

The Tired Soldier Sank Down Upon A Bench Before He Was Able To Speak. 

 

 

"Thy Tongue Is Dry, And Moves Slowly, And, Now That I Regard Thee More

Closely, Art Pale. We Must Cheer Up Thy Drooping Spirit"

  

 

"Having Thus Spoken, The Young Man Entered The House, And Presently

Returned With A Flagon And Drinking Cups.

 

  

"Drink, Man," Said Arundel, Filling A Cup With Wine, "And Wash All

Sorrow Out Of Thine Heart. The Suns That Ripened The Grapes Out Of

Which This Juice Was Crushed, Were Bright And Joyous. May They Impart

Their Own Happiness And Vigor Unto Thee."

  

 

The Soldier Put The Cup To His Lips, Nor Withdrew It Until The

Contents Were Drained.

 

 

 

"I Feel," He Said, "The Good Wine Tingling Through All My Veins, And

Am A New Man Again."

  

 

"Fill Once More," Said The Young Man, Suiting The Action To The Word;

"One Shower Is Not Enough For So Thirsty A Soil."

 

  

The Soldier Did Not Refuse, And Having Drank A Second Time, He Felt

Refreshed.

  

 

"Pleasant Enough Quarters, Master Arundel," He Said, Looking Around;

"And I See Ye Have Some Red-Skins Camped Near By."

 

  

"They Are The Knight's Particular Friends, Whose Society It Seems To

Be His Sovereign Pleasure To Cultivate. He Has Persuaded Them To

Gather Round Him, Forming What May Be Called His Body-Guard." 

 

 

"Or Outposts Of The Main Garrison. Well, For Runners Or Scouts They

May Answer, But For Hand-To-Hand Action, They Are Naught. But Where Is

Sir Christopher?"

  

 

"He Started On A Hunt This Morning, Our Larder Having Run Low. Hark!"

He Added, As Suddenly The Blast Of A Bugle Was Heard Echoing Through

The Forest, "That Is The Sound Wherewith He Is Accustomed To Announce

His Approach, And You Will Presently See Him Coming Out Of The Wood."

  

 

Sure Enough, In A Few Moments The Tall Form Of The Knight, Arrayed In

A Deer-Skin Hunting-Shirt, With Leggins Of The Same Material, And "A

Piece" In His Hand, Was Seen Emerging Into The Open Space. He Was

Followed By A Couple Of Indians, Each Of Whom Bore On His Shoulders A

Deer.

  

 

"Quecheco," The Two White Men Heard Him Say, As He Came Out Of The

Bushes, "Carry Thou Thy Deer To My Lodge, And Do Thou, Pococke, Divide

Thine With Thy Brother Quecheco." After Speaking These Words He

Advanced Toward Them.

  

 

"So, Ho, Philip," Cried Sir Christopher, "Again Under My Banner. Fate

Hath Decreed Us I Think For Buenas Camaradas, And For My Part I

Heartily Rejoice Thereat. A Braver Heart Than Thine Never Beat Under

Steel Corselet, Or Truer Hand Wielded A Sharp Sword."

  

 

"I Thank You, Sir Christopher, For Your Good Opinion," Said The

Soldier, "But I Have Seen Little Service Since We Parted Among The

Turbans, Of Whom Somehow Your Wine Sets Me A Thinking, At All To My

Mind. As For Fighting These Naked Savages, Who Have Nothing But

Children's Bows And Stone Hatchets, While Our Men-At-Arms Are Clad In

Bullet-Proof Steel From Head To Heel, Methinks There Is Little Manhood

Required Therefor, And For What I Have Done In That Way, I Confess

Myself Somewhat Ashamed." 

 

 

"It Doth Please Me To Hear Thee Speak Thus, Philip," Replied The

Knight. True Valor Is Ever Joined With Generosity, And Despises To

Take Advantage Of Superior Strength To Crush The Weaker. But Fear Not

That I Have Any Service Of The Kind For Thee. I Came Not Among These

Innocent Natives To Bring A Sword, But The Olive Branch Of Peace. I

Would See Them Peaceful, And United, And Happy, Not Broken Into

Hostile Clans, And Delighting In Murdering One Another."

 

  

"I Spoke Not," Said The Soldier, "As Desiring To Make Terms With You,

Sir Christopher, Well Knowing That You Would Ask Nothing Which An

Honest Man Would Be Unwilling To Perform, And Am Only Too Happy To

Enter Your Service."

  

 

"So Be It, Philip," Said The Knight. "Henceforth Be Here Thy Home."

  

 

"Truly," Exclaimed The Soldier, Stretching Out His Legs With A Sigh Of

Relief, "There Is Some Difference Between Lying In A Prison, Or Even

Talking With Master Spikeman In The Bushes, As I Did But Just Now, And

Being With Good Wine And Noble Gentlemen."

  

 

"Didst Meet On Thy Way That Most Puritanical Of Puritans, The Praying,

Cheating, Canting, Hypocritical, Long-Faced Master Spikeman?" Cried

Arundel. "I Wonder What New Mischief He Hath Now On Foot, For It Is

His Meat?"

  

 

"Master Miles Arundel," Said The Knight, "Thy Language Is Too

Intemperate To Be Excused Even By Thy Youth. Check The Bitterness Of

Thine Expression, And Know That He Who Rules His Own Spirit Is Greater

Than He Who Wins A Kingdom."

  

 

A Flash Of Haughty Resentment Lighted Up The Eyes Of The Young Man At

The Reproof, But As He Saw That No Offence Was Designed, He Answered:

  

 

"I Expect Never To Win A Kingdom, But As For This Villain--"

  

 

"Peace, I Entreat Thee, My Young Friend," Interrupted Sir Christopher.

"I Am Curious To Hear Of Philip's Treatment In His Confinement, If He

Will Favor Us With An Account Thereof?" 

 

 

Hereupon The Soldier Recounted To Them All That Had Passed In His

Prison, Including His Interview With Spikeman, And Attack On The

Jailer, And Also The Conversation In The Wood, Except Those Parts

Which Had Relation To Prudence. 

 

 

"I See Not," Said Arundel, Upon The Conclusion Of The Narrative, "Why

The Wily Assistant Should Be Thine Enemy, But He Clearly Is. Thou Art

Honored In This Respect As Well As I." 

 

 

"My Mind Doth Misgive Me That You Are Right," Said Philip. "Away From

Him. He Seems An Arch Villain, Though In His Presence The Feeling

Changes, For He Hath A Tongue To Wile A Bird From The Bough." 

 

 

"Be Sure I Am Not Mistaken. See Now Whether Sir Christopher Be Not Of

The Same Opinion."

 

  

Thus Appealed To, The Knight Answered:

  

 

"I Fear That Your Judgment, Master Arundel, Is Correct, Though Caring

Not To Enter Into The Reasons Which Have Forced Me To This Conclusion.

But We Will Endeavor To Use Such Caution That Any Mischievous Designs

Of His Shall Be Defeated. Happily My Homestead Is Not Comprised Within

The Limits Of The Colony, And The Sentence Of Banishment Is Complied

With, Philip Being Here."

  

 

Hereupon Sir Christopher Rose And Entered The House, And The Soldier

Took Advantage Of His Absence To Deliver The Message Of Prudence,

Which, As He Had Threatened, He Colored A Little. With All His Efforts

He Was Unable To Conceal The Interest Which He Felt For The Girl, But

The Young Man Good Naturedly Allowed Him To Suppose It Unnoticed. In A

Short Time The Knight Reappeared, And Invited Them In To Dinner.

  

 

The Apartment Which They Entered Opened Immediately Upon The Porch,

And Was A Room Some Twenty Feet Square, Constituting Somewhat More

Than A Quarter Of The Building. The Walls Were Merely Unhewn Logs,

Divested Of The Bark, And Filled In With A Tenacious Clay Resembling

Mortar. Against Them Were Nailed, Or Supported By Wooden Pegs, In

Divers