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THE CHILDREN’S LIBRARY

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_VOLUME ONE_


THE BROWN OWL

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_THE CHILDREN’S LIBRARY._


    THE BROWN OWL.
    THE CHINA CUP, AND OTHER STORIES.
    STORIES FROM FAIRYLAND.

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THE

BROWN OWL

A Fairy Story

    BY
    FORD H. MADOX HUEFFER


    _TWO ILLUSTRATIONS BY
    F. MADOX BROWN_

    NEW YORK
    CASSELL PUBLISHING COMPANY
    104 & 106 FOURTH AVENUE
    1892

    THIRD EDITION

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THE BROWN OWL


ONCE upon a time, a long while ago—in fact long before Egypt had risen
to power and before Rome or Greece had ever been heard of—and that was
some time before you were born, you know—there was a king who reigned
over a very large and powerful kingdom.

Now this king was rather old, he had founded his kingdom himself, and
he had reigned over it nine hundred and ninety-nine and a half years
already. As I have said before, it was a very large kingdom, for it
contained, among other things, the whole of the western half of the
world. The rest of the world was divided into smaller kingdoms, and
each kingdom was ruled over by separate princes, who, however, were
none of them so old as Intafernes, as he was called.

Now King Intafernes was an exceedingly powerful magician—that was
why he had remained so long on the throne; for you must know that in
this country the people were divided into two classes—those who were
magicians, and those who weren’t. The magicians called themselves
Aristocrats, and the others called themselves what they liked; also in
this country, as in all other countries, the rich magicians had the
upper hand over the rest, but still the others did not grumble, for
they were not badly treated on the whole. Now of all the magicians in
the country the King was the greatest, and no one approached him in
magic power but the Chancellor, who was called Merrymineral, and he
even was no match for the King.

Among other things King Intafernes had a daughter, who was exceedingly
beautiful—as indeed all princesses are or ought to be. She had a very
fair face, and a wealth of golden hair that fell over her shoulders,
like a shining waterfall falling in ripples to her waist.

Now in the thousandth year of her father’s reign the Princess was
eighteen, and in that country she was already of age. Three days before
her nineteenth birthday, however, her father fell sick and gradually
weakened, until at last he had only strength left to lie in his royal
bed. Still, however, he retained his faculties, and on the Princess’s
birthday he made all the magicians file before his bed and swear to be
faithful for ever to the Princess. Last of all came the Chancellor, the
pious Merrymineral, and as he took the oath the King looked at him with
a loving glance and said:

‘Ah! my dear Merrymineral, in truth there was no need for thee to have
taken the oath, for it is thy nature to be faithful; and it being thy
nature, thou couldst not but be faithful.’

To which the pious Merrymineral answered:

‘To such a master and to such a mistress how could I but be faithful?’
and to this noble sentiment the three hundred and forty-seven magicians
could not help according unanimous applause.

When they were quiet again the King said:

‘So be it, good Merrymineral, do thou always act up to thy words. But
now leave, good men all, for I am near my end, and would fain spend my
last moments with my daughter here.’

Sorrowfully, one by one, the courtiers left, wishing him their last
adieux. He had been a good king to all, all through his long reign, and
they were sorry that he had to leave them at last.

Soon they were all gone except the good Merrymineral, and at last he
too went, his whole frame shaking with suppressed sobs; his body seemed
powerless with grief, and his limbs seemed to refuse their functions.
The King looked after him, carefully noticing whether the door was
shut. Then he spoke:

‘My dear daughter,’ he said, ‘when I am gone be kind to every one, and,
above all, cherish the Owl—do cherish the Owl—promise me to cherish the
Owl.’

‘But how can I cherish the Owl?’ cried the poor Princess; ‘how can I,
unless I know who he is?’

But the King only answered:

‘Dear Ismara, do promise to cherish the Owl!’

And he said nothing else for a long time, until at last the Princess
saw that the only way to let him rest in peace was to promise, and she
said:

‘I promise, dear father, but still I do wish I knew who or what the
Owl is that I am to cherish.’

‘You will see that in good time,’ answered the King. ‘Now, my dear
Ismara, I shall die happy, and you will be safe. If you had not
promised—however, we will let that rest unsaid. Now wheel the bed to
where I can see out of the window.’

The Princess did as she was told. Now from this you must not imagine
that she was a very strong princess—for she was no stronger than most
princesses of her age; but the old King, who was a very powerful
magician, as I have told you already, made the bed easy for her to
move. He might have made it move of its own accord, but he knew that it
would please his daughter to be of service to him, and so he let her
move it.

The view from the window was very fine. A dark wood grew in the
foreground, and far away over the tree-tops were the blue hills, behind
which the sun was just preparing to retire. And it seemed angry, the
sun, for its face was dark and clouded, and its beams smote fiercely
on everything, and gilded the tops of the autumn trees with a purer
gold than their natural tint. But overhead the clouds spread darkly,
and they reached in a black pall to the verge of the horizon, forming
a black frame to the red-gold sunset; for only the extreme west was
bright