Top of the World Stories for Boys and Girls Part 1

Top of the World Stories for Boys and Girls.

by Emilie Poulsson and Laura E. Poulsson.

PREFACE

Not for my dear usual public of little children have I gathered these stories from Scandinavian authors, but for boys and girls who have reached a stage which warrants a rather free range in Story Land. For here are to be encountered creatures and events, deeds and ideas, unsuited to youngest readers, but which have legitimate attraction for boys and girls from nine to fourteen years old--the age varying according to the child's maturity and previous reading.

Five of these stories were written by the noted Finnish author, Zachris Topelius, who wrote them, and much else, for the children of Finland and Sweden more than fifty years ago. His loving sympathy for children, and his earnest desire to write only what was wholesome and good for them, s.h.i.+ne through all his literary work for the young. His "Lasning for Barn" (Reading for Children) in several volumes, contains stories, true and imaginative, poems, songs, hymns, and many charming plays for children to act. Although a Finn, Topelius wrote in the Swedish language.

By the kind permission of Miss Margaret Bocher I have made use of her excellent rendering of _Sampo Lappelil_.

Of the other stories presented here, two (_The Forest Witch_ and _The Testing of the Two Knights_) were translated from the Danish, and one (_Anton's Errand, or The Boy Who Made Friends by the Way_) from the Norwegian.

The translations are not strictly literal, neither are they, I am sure, unjustifiably free. The liberty exercised consists chiefly of omission.

For example, in Knut Spelevink, extra incidents were omitted which dragged the story to a tedious length or marred it by the inartistic, outworn device of explaining Knut's adventures as a dream; in _The Princess Lindagull_, some details of the wild-beast fight were left out; in _A Legend of Mercy_, a hampering husk was stripped off from the good seed of the quaint little story. Most of the minor changes were made for the sake of smoothness and clarity.

In general, wherever I, as translator or editor, have varied from the original, I have done so to make the stories as directly appealing, as delightful, and as profitable as possible, for our boys and girls.

EMILIE POULSSON.

_Boston, Ma.s.s._

TOP-OF-THE-WORLD STORIES

KNUT SPELEVINK

Knut was a poor orphan boy who lived with his grandmother at Perlebank in a little hut on the sh.o.r.e.

He had a s.h.i.+rt, a jacket, a pair of trousers and a cap; and what more does one need in summer? In winter he had woolen stockings and birch-bark shoes. That wasn't so little, after all. He was cheerful,--always happy indeed, though always hungry. It is a great art to know how to be happy and hungry at the same time!

His good grandmother was so poor that she seldom had enough food for the boy to eat all he wanted. She spun woolen yarn and sent Knut with it to Mr. Peterman's grand estate, The Ridge, several miles away, where he could always sell the yarn. When Knut returned with the money, Grandmother would buy flour and bake bread. She made it in big flat cakes with a hole in the middle, strung these cakes on a stick and hung the stick high up in the hut where the cakes would dry and harden, and could be kept for a long time. If the yarn brought a good price, she might even buy some sour milk, too. Potatoes they got from a tiny fenced-in field, no larger than the floor of a small room. Then, too, Grandmother owned a fish-net, so they had fresh fish sometimes,--when Fisher Jonas's boy could help Knut to put out the net.

It was indeed seldom, however, that Knut and his grandmother were well supplied with food, and the boy's little stomach often called for more; but even then he was as cheerful as ever.

One morning he sat on the beach, picking up yellowish stones that looked a little like soft, warm, boiled potatoes. Poor Knut! They would not do to eat, and he laughingly threw them away, but as he did so, he happened to see something that lay among the stones. Picking it up, he found that it was a little whistle or pipe made of reed, such as children often make for themselves when playing on the sh.o.r.e. There was nothing at all remarkable about it, but Knut thought he would see if it gave any sound.

Good! It really did. You could play three tones upon it,--_pa_, _p?_, and _pu_. When Knut discovered that, he just for fun stuffed the whistle into his jacket pocket.

To-day happened to be a hungry day; Knut had had no breakfast. "Suppose I were sitting now in Mr. Peterman's kitchen at The Ridge," thought Knut; and at once he imagined he could smell herring being fried!

Well, he must do something; so he seated himself on a big rock near the water and began to fish, but the fish would not bite. There had been a storm the day before, but to-day the sea shone like a mirror under the bright sun, and its slow heaving waves swung clear as gla.s.s against the sh.o.r.e.

"I do wonder what Grandmother has for dinner," thought Knut to himself.

Just then a wave rolled up so high that it wet Knut's bare foot, and he heard a voice murmur from the wave, "Knut, have you found the magic pipe that belongs to the sea-princess? She left it on the sh.o.r.e and wishes she could find it. You can blow three tones on it, _pa_, _p?_, _pu_; and they all work magic,--_pa_ makes the hearers sleep, _p?_ makes the hearers weep, but _pu_ sets them to laughing."

"What?" exclaimed Knut. "Is it a magic pipe? Well, you may go your way, big wave. I found the pipe and I think I shall keep it for a while."

The wave murmured something,--no one knows what,--rolled slowly away and did not come back again.

Knut took the pipe from his pocket and looked closely at it. "So you are a magic pipe, are you? And can charm, can you? Well, charm a fish on to my hook, if you please." And with that he blew _pa_, _pa_.

He had not blown very long before a perch, then a pike, then a white fish floated up to the surface of the water, lying on their sides as if they were asleep.

"Here are fresh fish to be had," thought Knut; and he continued to blow.

In a short time the whole surface of the water near the sh.o.r.e was covered with floating fish, more white fish, several kinds of perches, sticklebacks, bream, carp, pike, and salmon,--all the lively finny throng that live in the sea.

"This will be a great catch!" thought Knut, and he sprang up to the house to get a hand-net.

When he came back, the sh.o.r.e was crowded with water-birds. The sea-gulls were the greediest and shrieked "Grab! Grab! Grab!" so that they could be heard a mile away! But there were many others keeping them company,--ducks and wild geese, together with swans. All these ravenous visitors were hard at work devouring the floating fish; and in the midst of the throng was a great sea-eagle that had swooped down and seized a large salmon in his talons.

"Go away, you thieves!" called Knut, picking up stones from the beach and throwing them at the birds. Some were hit in the leg, others in the wing, but none seemed to think of dropping his prey.

Just then a shot sounded, then another and another, from a near-lying bay. Some of the birds fell to the water and floated, lying on their sides like the fish. The firing continued until all the birds had been either shot down or sent screaming away, scattering in every direction.

A boat containing three hunters now approached the beach. The men were Mr. Peterman and two friends of his, and it was they who had shot the birds. They stepped ash.o.r.e in good humor to gather up their booty.

"Why, there is Knut!" said Mr. Peterman. "How in the world did you get so many birds together here at Perlebank?"

"I was playing on my pipe for the fish and the birds came to the party,"

answered Knut, jokingly.

"Then you must certainly be a wonderfully clever player," said Mr.

Peterman. "And hereafter, your name shall be Knut Spelevink."[2]

"All right," said Knut. He had had no surname before and thought he might as well have Spelevink as Anderson, Soderlund or Mattsson.

"But listen, Knut Spelevink; why do you look so poorly to-day? You are as thin as a rail," said Mr. Peterman.

"Why shouldn't I look poorly, who see all this food and have not eaten anything since yesterday noon?" replied Knut, in his cheerful fas.h.i.+on.

"H'm," said Mr. Peterman. "Well, come to The Ridge to dinner to-day, since you have provided us with such a good catch. But don't come until four o'clock because the birds won't be plucked and roasted before that."

"Thank you most humbly," answered Knut; but he thought to himself that four o'clock was rather late for any one who had eaten nothing since yesterday!

Mr. Peterman and his friends rowed away and Knut went home to his grandmother.

"Well, Knut, have you seen any fish to-day?"

"Oh, yes! I've seen plenty; but the birds ate the fish and Mr. Peterman shot the birds."

"Too bad, Knut. We have nothing for dinner but two herring, four little potatoes and a half-slice of bread."