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    The Water-Babies: A Fairy Tale for a Land-Baby
    The Water-Babies: A Fairy Tale for a Land-Baby
    The Water-Babies: A Fairy Tale for a Land-Baby
    Ebook259 pages

    The Water-Babies: A Fairy Tale for a Land-Baby

    By Charles Kingsley

    3.5/5

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    About this ebook

    The story follows the young chimney sweep Tom, who, after a series of extraordinary events, finds himself transformed into a water-baby. As a water-baby, Tom embarks on a remarkable underwater odyssey, encountering a host of captivating characters and engaging in thrilling escapades. Guided by the wise and mystical Mrs. Bedonebyasyoudid, Tom explores the depths of rivers, encounters talking creatures, and learns valuable lessons about morality, kindness, and personal growth. Along the way, he undergoes a transformative journey, both physically and spiritually, as he seeks redemption and a chance to become a better person.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherInteractive Media
    Release dateMar 15, 2016
    ISBN9781911263296
    Author

    Charles Kingsley

    Charles Kingsley was born in Holne, Devon, in 1819. He was educated at Bristol Grammar School and Helston Grammar School, before moving on to King's College London and the University of Cambridge. After graduating in 1842, he pursued a career in the clergy and in 1859 was appointed chaplain to Queen Victoria. The following year he was appointed Regius Professor of Modern History at Cambridge, and became private tutor to the Prince of Wales in 1861. Kingsley resigned from Cambridge in 1869 and between 1870 and 1873 was canon of Chester cathedral. He was appointed canon of Westminster cathedral in 1873 and remained there until his death in 1875. Sympathetic to the ideas of evolution, Kingsley was one of the first supporters of Darwin's On the Origin of Species (1859), and his concern for social reform was reflected in The Water-Babies (1863). Kingsley also wrote Westward Ho! (1855), for which the English town is named, a children's book about Greek mythology, The Heroes (1856), and several other historical novels.

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    Reviews for The Water-Babies

    3.5/5

    316 ratings22 reviews

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    • 4/5
      Here's something that's been on my TBR shelf literally since before I was born. My mother kept her own copy, an award from a 1925 school essay contest in Ottawa, at the cabin we went to in Quebec every summer. I don't recall her ever reading it to me, but since her death it's been on my own shelves and I finally decided I couldn't let another 70 years go by without reading it. 10-year-old Tom, a poorly treated chimney sweep, completely uneducated and social untrained, loses himself in a complex chimney system and comes down in the bedroom of a family's young daughter. He's assumed to be a thief and is chased hither and yon by a crowd, finally escaping them only to drown not too far away. He's taken in hand by fairies and turned into a water baby, promptly forgetting his past and having numerous adventures with all sorts of real and (to us) unreal creatures. Along the way he's taught good behavior in ways some educators might find useful. Two of his teachers are Mrs. Bedonebyasyoudid and her sister, Mrs. Doasyouwouldbedoneby. It's a charming book, with but a few phrases that are now politically incorrect. I was actually surprised it wasn't worse, to be honest. The content that I found most jarring was the occasional veiled reference to a holy child, which seemed completely out of place in the middle of a fairy tale. I went back and read the book's description in "1001 Books You Must Read Before You Die", which pointed out that this was written only a couple of years after publication of "On The Origin of Species" and was very much concerned with evolutionary progression and regression. At any rate, it's a charming tale and it was a pleasure to finally read it.
    • 1/5
      This book was read to me when I was five years old, horrifying me then and ever since. As the story goes, chimneys were difficult to clean so they sent a small boy up inside it to do the cleaning. Why? It was his job. Why wasn't he in school? School was only for fortunate children. What did his parents do about it? No mention. Who looked after him? No one. Did the boys die up the chimney? Sometimes. Then it goes on to describe babies in a weedy pond, the illustrations showing them peering out of their watery prison that is like a giant green goldfish bowl. I never found out why. Just how bad do you have to be to live in this world? I have since found out the story was part of his "scientific theory" over human origins. Oh, perfect for a child's entertainment! Kingsley was a priest of the Church of England and evidently believed that horror stories would keep his congregation into line. He was the worst kind of Victorian patriarch.My grade one teacher has a lot to answer for by giving me this lifelong nightmare.
    • 2/5
      After having slogged through The Water Babies once again I have come to the conclusion that that had it not been for the glorious illustrations of Jessie Wilcox Smith I might never return to this moralistic fairy tale. What I once found clever in my youth I now find repellent.
    • 1/5
      I had the hardest time reading this book. The wording is so off and the plot makes such little sense to me. I do not like it.
    • 1/5
      So dated I can't picture any kid i know reading it today. I asked my mother if she read this as a child. She didn't remember this specifically, but gave me a lecture on how they didn't have aliens and star wars in her day (she was born in 1916), and they enjoyed fairy tales like Grimm's and Anderson. So I guess I would recommend this for a grandmother, and not a child.
    • 5/5
      I never tire of this charming story, the magic has been with me since I first read it at a very early age, and continues now as I read it to my own eight year old... Some stories will live forever.
    • 5/5
      Not really a children's book , more early SF / modern morality tale/ social commentary . Firmly grounded in evolution and biology as known at the time, Tom the chimney sweep's boy is transformed into a miniature aquatic baby complete with external gills. He learns and develops in his new environment and evolves into a decent human being.
    • 3/5
      Delightful story of a chimney sweep swept into an underwater world.
    • 4/5
      Little Tom, the chimney sweep, is turned into a water baby when he jumps into a stream to clean himself.A children's classic from 1863, of course full of Victorian morale (Mrs. Doasyouwouldbedoneby, e.g.), but nevertheless a very likeable and adventurous story.
    • 4/5
      This children's classic reflects the culture of the time in which it was written. The writing describes the fanciful journey of an abused chimney sweep who finds refuge with the fairies. Many quote worthy passages mixed with some racial stereotyping make for an interesting read.
    • 4/5
      Discovered this treasure when I was a teenager. It still holds up for me today.
    • 3/5
      A moral fable written in the 1800's. Written by a reverend. I appreciated some of his efforts at morality but didn't like the feminism of the God like characters.
    • 4/5
      What a wonderful story! It is full of the most fabulous wordplay and I enjoyed it immensely. While not "politically correct" (part of the fun of it), you have to remember it was first published in 1863. In fact, since it's in the public domain, you can get it free on an eReader at feedbooks.com.
    • 3/5
      Tom, a young chimney-sweep in Victoria England, escapes the abuse of Mr.Grimes, his boss, and quickly finds himself in an adventure saga under the sea. This adventure is for Tom an exploration of the big world and its inhabitants, as well as a teaching of how to be good in the world. I appreciate the little nuggets of wisdom.This novel may not be accessible for today's youth. The language is dense and unfamiliar in places, and the plot rambles on. I stuck with it, but novice readers may not have the stamina.
    • 3/5
      This book is a mixed bag, one I enjoyed reading for its wonderful turns of phrase and flights of fancy (to quote a couple of worthy cliches). It's not real strong on plot and being of another age I don't buy a lot of the author's views on things -- which since this is a moralizing tale it is not easy to overlook. But still, lots to mine here, and a soothing read at a difficult time.
    • 4/5
      I remember my mother reading this book to me as a child, and now that I am 21 I have found a beautiful version. It's illustrated by Zena Holloway with underwater photographs and is breathtaking in its beauty and detail. It compresses the storyline nicely, leaving out a lot of the Victorian Era discourses (theological and scientific) that seem to make the book difficult for younger readers.I remember that I loved this book, and Ellie was my favourite character apart from Tom. I still remember the part where Tom steals the treats, and what I felt for him when he confessed. I don't really remember the rest (I was probably 10 when we stopped reading it - it got lost), and I don't know if my mother skipped over the philosophy sections, but I don't remember them being particularly arduous.4 stars for the original, and 5 for the Picture Book version that I currently have.
    • 4/5
      I read this through DailyLit, which sends bitesize bits of books to your email address everyday. I don't work for them but it really effects what I can read especially if the book was written an age ago and would just frustrate me into putting it down if I read it on the sofa.I loved this and am so glad I put the effort in to get through it. I wish we lived in a world where this was a real children's book and kids could read this stuff. I mean, how different is this from modern fantasy? Not that much in my opinion, not very cool and trendy though I am sure...!A fantastic moral tale, with so much information about some real and some imaginary creatures you get so mixed up it's delightful. Fairies and undersea creatures. Brilliant.
    • 3/5
      The Water Babies is touted as a fairy tale for a "land baby." Supposedly, the book was written by Kingsley for his then infant son. Even considering an adult reading this aloud to a child, it's difficult to see this book being intended for a terribly young audience. The overall story is whimsical and cute and could be entertaining for a child. But the frequent interjections by the narrator exploring philosophical, scientific, and theological themes are most definitely going to be over the head of any child reader and many/most adult readers. A child would potentially enjoy an abridged version of the story (which is likely what was used for the cartoon versions of the story). And yet, Kingsley definitely intended the book to carry his agenda.Putting aside the question of intended audience (assuming that "intending" it for children is mostly a ploy to get this book out there and more readily promote his agenda), this book is a very interesting read.Written amid the hotbed of many scientific pamphlets, essays, and books on evolution, this book attempts to explore many of these theories in an accessible and often satiric way. The story itself involves a young boy, Tom, who is transformed from a human boy into a "water baby" and then needs to "evolve" back into human form. The "evolution" process isn't overt or complex (he doesn't become an ape, as is often the anticipated evolutionary ancestor of humans). Rather, he exists as a water baby in order to be "out of his own world" and undergo a sort of "moral evolution" from a "bad boy" into a civilized, selfless, kind, human boy. The story was intriguing and had many fairy tale elements not only in that it involved fairies and magic, but also that it posed many morals. It presented core values that people should live by. Two of the main fairies are named "Bedonebyasyouhavedone" and "Doasyouwouldbedoneby" and as such they teach Tom about consequences, the ideas of justice and mercy, and the motivations for being selfless and altruistic in helping your fellow creatures.Many of the philosophical and scientific ideas are also very interesting to read. There are numerous passages poking fun at evolutionary theorists...both at the arguments for evolution and those against...showing some of the ridiculous holes in each side of the argument. Where this book was interesting to me is that it showed a way that "evolution" can exist side-by-side with "religion." Even in our modern day, that's at the heart of many arguments. Kingsley essentially presents evolution as a natural adaptive process that creatures undergo. And yet, he identifies it not as some random thing that "just happens", but as the effect of a divine creator...a creator all the more divine for having been able to not only "make creatures" but to "make creatures that can make themselves." Just as God set the planets in motion and doesn't have to actively maneuver them around the universe...God has also put life in motion and doesn't have to actively maneuver the adaptations that life undergoes in order to better survive in different situations. There is one lengthy example given in the book which could give both theologists and evolutionists pause...in this segment, a group of lazy humans essentially move back out into the jungle and become hairy (so as to weather the elements) and their arms, legs, hands & feet modify so as to be better adapted to climbing trees and their laziness causes them to actually lose language over time...the humans essentially become apes. It doesn't seem that Kingsley is suggesting that humans evolved from apes, but this segment in the story opens itself to contradiction despite its satirical nature.And...back on topic...I don't want to write a diatribe about evolution, even though that is a large underlying theme of this book.This novel was widely successful and actually became a staple in England's education system for many years. The language is fun and the story is humorous. The digs he takes at the scientific community are funny but often too obscure (fortunately my copy had endnotes to explain a lot of them). It's not something I'd read over and over. It's also not something I'm going to throw in front of my kids to read as I'm not sure they'd really enjoy it or "get it"...in fact, they'd probably get bored too soon. Maybe once they hit their teens.***3 stars
    • 5/5
      One of my childhood favorites. A lovely fable and fairy tale from the 1860s. Beautiful illustrations by Goble, adorable illos by Atwell & Willcox (yes, I have more than one edition :-)! A hardworking boy, transformation into a water baby, good fairies, an entire undersea world - pure magic! A treat of a story that makes one WANT to be honest, trustworthy, courageous, determined, considerate, kind, caring, and good! The beauty and benefits of this story far outweigh its few flaws from a dated past. Somewhat passé today in our politically correct society due to the complacent English prejudices (hopefully only from the era in which it was written) mentioned in it. Racial stereotyping was completely acceptable in children's books (and society as a whole) not just in England but everywhere and not that long ago. The one bit that stuck with me was something to the effect ... If you ask Paddy (as a symbol for the entire Irish population!) a question and he lies in answer, don't get angry at him as he doesn't know any better. Egads. Hard to believe but sadly too believable. I'm Irish therefore I lie?? OMG!! But in fairness, in the beginning chapters of the book, the author did have the fairy godmother type take the form of a wholly admirable and beautiful Irish peasant woman to look out for and talk to our hero, Tom :-)As an Irish-American who has never experienced any anti-Irish prejudice, I thoroughly enjoyed this book both as a child and still love it as an adult. So don't let my prejudice comment stop you from reading the book. It's old, from another era, and the author had a well-meaning, kindly but unthinking and sometimes ridiculous victorian paternalistic attitude towards the Irish that I found at worst irksome but easily ignored. It snuck in here and there but was not the focus of the book. And he certainly was not rabidly anti-Irish as some from his era were. Actually, I got the feeling that the author was probably a bit forward thinking and more kindly inclined to the Irish for his time though still a product of his own upbringing and times.I know that "politically correct" is often made fun of nowadays. I'm all for it in modern lit simply because - to our children- kindness, fairness, and equality will simply be taken for granted one day. And that would be a wonderful thing! But at the same time I would hate for any lit from the past to be white-washed or cleaned up simply to meet today's standards. It is part of a historical record. One day, racial stereotyping will simply be a ridiculous primitive practice from the past. Both kids and adults will enjoy wondering innocently how people could ever have been so silly! Re-writing classics or the past serves no one. Overall, this is a sweet, wholesome, moral and very appealing book which I would be happy to gift to any child or adult! It still has much to offer the modern reader.
    • 5/5
      This isn't one of my all-time favorite children's books – far from it, and I'm not at all an admirer of Kingsley personally – and I'd ordinarily give it 3*** or, perhaps generously, 3½***; but this particular edition rates 5***** for the illustrations by Jessie Willcox Smith, who in fact rates 5***** or at least near to it for just about every work of illustration she ever did!
    • 5/5
      Don't remember much about this now, but I read this several times in childhood. Reckon the last time would’ve been when I was eight or nine, circa 1983-4.A must for all youngsters!
    • 5/5
      This is a very old book but it was read to me as a child and I wanted to rediscover it. What a wonderful world Kingsley takes us to. I love the story of Tom the chimney sweep and remember wanting to be just like Ellie. While there are some editions that have illustrations and they are unbelievably beautiful, nothing can compare to the images I created in my imagination when this book was read to me. I had a wonderful experience of remembering many of them as I reread the book this last month. I don't hear of many people who know of this book anymore. It is an absolute classic and I implore you to read it and share it.

    Book preview

    The Water-Babies - Charles Kingsley

    cover.jpg

    Charles Kingsley

    The Water-Babies

    A Fairy Tale for a Land-Baby

    New Edition

    Published by Sovereign Classic

    This Edition

    First published in 2016

    Copyright © 20156 Sovereign

    All Rights Reserved.

    Contents

    CHAPTER I

    CHAPTER II

    CHAPTER III

    CHAPTER IV

    CHAPTER V

    CHAPTER VI

    CHAPTER VII

    CHAPTER VIII AND LAST

    MORAL

    CHAPTER I

    "I heard a thousand blended notes,

    While in a grove I sate reclined;

    In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts

    Bring sad thoughts to the mind.

    "To her fair works did Nature link

    The human soul that through me ran;

    And much it grieved my heart to think,

    What man has made of man."

    WORDSWORTH.

    Once upon a time there was a little chimney-sweep, and his name was Tom. That is a short name, and you have heard it before, so you will not have much trouble in remembering it. He lived in a great town in the North country, where there were plenty of chimneys to sweep, and plenty of money for Tom to earn and his master to spend. He could not read nor write, and did not care to do either; and he never washed himself, for there was no water up the court where he lived. He had never been taught to say his prayers. He never had heard of God, or of Christ, except in words which you never have heard, and which it would have been well if he had never heard. He cried half his time, and laughed the other half. He cried when he had to climb the dark flues, rubbing his poor knees and elbows raw; and when the soot got into his eyes, which it did every day in the week; and when his master beat him, which he did every day in the week; and when he had not enough to eat, which happened every day in the week likewise. And he laughed the other half of the day, when he was tossing halfpennies with the other boys, or playing leap-frog over the posts, or bowling stones at the horses’ legs as they trotted by, which last was excellent fun, when there was a wall at hand behind which to hide. As for chimney-sweeping, and being hungry, and being beaten, he took all that for the way of the world, like the rain and snow and thunder, and stood manfully with his back to it till it was over, as his old donkey did to a hail-storm; and then shook his ears and was as jolly as ever; and thought of the fine times coming, when he would be a man, and a master sweep, and sit in the public-house with a quart of beer and a long pipe, and play cards for silver money, and wear velveteens and ankle-jacks, and keep a white bull-dog with one gray ear, and carry her puppies in his pocket, just like a man. And he would have apprentices, one, two, three, if he could. How he would bully them, and knock them about, just as his master did to him; and make them carry home the soot sacks, while he rode before them on his donkey, with a pipe in his mouth and a flower in his button-hole, like a king at the head of his army. Yes, there were good times coming; and, when his master let him have a pull at the leavings of his beer, Tom was the jolliest boy in the whole town.

    One day a smart little groom rode into the court where Tom lived. Tom was just hiding behind a wall, to heave half a brick at his horse’s legs, as is the custom of that country when they welcome strangers; but the groom saw him, and halloed to him to know where Mr. Grimes, the chimney-sweep, lived. Now, Mr. Grimes was Tom’s own master, and Tom was a good man of business, and always civil to customers, so he put the half-brick down quietly behind the wall, and proceeded to take orders.

    Mr. Grimes was to come up next morning to Sir John Harthover’s, at the Place, for his old chimney-sweep was gone to prison, and the chimneys wanted sweeping. And so he rode away, not giving Tom time to ask what the sweep had gone to prison for, which was a matter of interest to Tom, as he had been in prison once or twice himself. Moreover, the groom looked so very neat and clean, with his drab gaiters, drab breeches, drab jacket, snow-white tie with a smart pin in it, and clean round ruddy face, that Tom was offended and disgusted at his appearance, and considered him a stuck-up fellow, who gave himself airs because he wore smart clothes, and other people paid for them; and went behind the wall to fetch the half-brick after all; but did not, remembering that he had come in the way of business, and was, as it were, under a flag of truce.

    His master was so delighted at his new customer that he knocked Tom down out of hand, and drank more beer that night than he usually did in two, in order to be sure of getting up in time next morning; for the more a man’s head aches when he wakes, the more glad he is to turn out, and have a breath of fresh air. And, when he did get up at four the next morning, he knocked Tom down again, in order to teach him (as young gentlemen used to be taught at public schools) that he must be an extra good boy that day, as they were going to a very great house, and might make a very good thing of it, if they could but give satisfaction.

    And Tom thought so likewise, and, indeed, would have done and behaved his best, even without being knocked down. For, of all places upon earth, Harthover Place (which he had never seen) was the most wonderful, and, of all men on earth, Sir John (whom he had seen, having been sent to gaol by him twice) was the most awful.

    Harthover Place was really a grand place, even for the rich North country; with a house so large that in the frame-breaking riots, which Tom could just remember, the Duke of Wellington, and ten thousand soldiers to match, were easily housed therein; at least, so Tom believed; with a park full of deer, which Tom believed to be monsters who were in the habit of eating children; with miles of game-preserves, in which Mr. Grimes and the collier lads poached at times, on which occasions Tom saw pheasants, and wondered what they tasted like; with a noble salmon-river, in which Mr. Grimes and his friends would have liked to poach; but then they must have got into cold water, and that they did not like at all. In short, Harthover was a grand place, and Sir John a grand old man, whom even Mr. Grimes respected; for not only could he send Mr. Grimes to prison when he deserved it, as he did once or twice a week; not only did he own all the land about for miles; not only was he a jolly, honest, sensible squire, as ever kept a pack of hounds, who would do what he thought right by his neighbours, as well as get what he thought right for himself; but, what was more, he weighed full fifteen stone, was nobody knew how many inches round the chest, and could have thrashed Mr. Grimes himself in fair fight, which very few folk round there could do, and which, my dear little boy, would not have been right for him to do, as a great many things are not which one both can do, and would like very much to do. So Mr. Grimes touched his hat to him when he rode through the town, and called him a buirdly awd chap, and his young ladies gradely lasses, which are two high compliments in the North country; and thought that that made up for his poaching Sir John’s pheasants; whereby you may perceive that Mr. Grimes had not been to a properly-inspected Government National School.

    Now, I dare say, you never got up at three o’clock on a midsummer morning. Some people get up then because they want to catch salmon; and some because they want to climb Alps; and a great many more because they must, like Tom. But, I assure you, that three o’clock on a midsummer morning is the pleasantest time of all the twenty-four hours, and all the three hundred and sixty-five days; and why every one does not get up then, I never could tell, save that they are all determined to spoil their nerves and their complexions by doing all night what they might just as well do all day. But Tom, instead of going out to dinner at half-past eight at night, and to a ball at ten, and finishing off somewhere between twelve and four, went to bed at seven, when his master went to the public-house, and slept like a dead pig; for which reason he was as piert as a game-cock (who always gets up early to wake the maids), and just ready to get up when the fine gentlemen and ladies were just ready to go to bed.

    So he and his master set out; Grimes rode the donkey in front, and Tom and the brushes walked behind; out of the court, and up the street, past the closed window-shutters, and the winking weary policemen, and the roofs all shining gray in the gray dawn.

    They passed through the pitmen’s village, all shut up and silent now, and through the turnpike; and then the were out in the real country, and plodding along the black dusty road, between black slag walls, with no sound but the groaning and thumping of the pit-engine in the next field. But soon the road grew white, and the walls likewise; and at the wall’s foot grew long grass and gay flowers, all drenched with dew; and instead of the groaning of the pit-engine, they heard the skylark saying his matins high up in the air, and the pit-bird warbling in the sedges, as he had warbled all night long.

    All else was silent. For old Mrs. Earth was still fast asleep; and, like many pretty people, she looked still prettier asleep than awake. The great elm-trees in the gold-green meadows were fast asleep above, and the cows fast asleep beneath them; nay, the few clouds which were about were fast asleep likewise, and so tired that they had lain down on the earth to rest, in long white flakes and bars, among the stems of the elm-trees, and along the tops of the alders by the stream, waiting for the sun to bid them rise and go about their day’s business in the clear blue overhead.

    On they went; and Tom looked, and looked, for he never had been so far into the country before; and longed to get over a gate, and pick buttercups, and look for birds’ nests in the hedge; but Mr. Grimes was a man of business, and would not have heard of that.

    Soon they came up with a poor Irishwoman, trudging along with a bundle at her back. She had a gray shawl over her head, and a crimson madder petticoat; so you may be sure she came from Galway. She had neither shoes nor stockings, and limped along as if she were tired and footsore; but she was a very tall handsome woman, with bright gray eyes, and heavy black hair hanging about her cheeks. And she took Mr. Grimes’ fancy so much, that when he came alongside he called out to her:

    This is a hard road for a gradely foot like that. Will ye up, lass, and ride behind me?

    But, perhaps, she did not admire Mr. Grimes’ look and voice; for she answered quietly:

    No, thank you: I’d sooner walk with your little lad here.

    You may please yourself, growled Grimes, and went on smoking.

    So she walked beside Tom, and talked to him, and asked him where he lived, and what he knew, and all about himself, till Tom thought he had never met such a pleasant-spoken woman. And she asked him, at last, whether he said his prayers! and seemed sad when he told her that he knew no prayers to say.

    Then he asked her where she lived, and she said far away by the sea. And Tom asked her about the sea; and she told him how it rolled and roared over the rocks in winter nights, and lay still in the bright summer days, for the children to bathe and play in it; and many a story more, till Tom longed to go and see the sea, and bathe in it likewise.

    At last, at the bottom of a hill, they came to a spring; not such a spring as you see here, which soaks up out of a white gravel in the bog, among red fly-catchers, and pink bottle-heath, and sweet white orchis; nor such a one as you may see, too, here, which bubbles up under the warm sandbank in the hollow lane by the great tuft of lady ferns, and makes the sand dance reels at the bottom, day and night, all the year round; not such a spring as either of those; but a real North country limestone fountain, like one of those in Sicily or Greece, where the old heathen fancied the nymphs sat cooling themselves the hot summer’s day, while the shepherds peeped at them from behind the bushes. Out of a low cave of rock, at the foot of a limestone crag, the great fountain rose, quelling, and bubbling, and gurgling, so clear that you could not tell where the water ended and the air began; and ran away under the road, a stream large enough to turn a mill; among blue geranium, and golden globe-flower, and wild raspberry, and the bird-cherry with its tassels of snow.

    And there Grimes stopped, and looked; and Tom looked too. Tom was wondering whether anything lived in that dark cave, and came out at night to fly in the meadows. But Grimes was not wondering at all. Without a word, he got off his donkey, and clambered over the low road wall, and knelt down, and began dipping his ugly head into the spring—and very dirty he made it.

    Tom was picking the flowers as fast as he could. The Irishwoman helped him, and showed him how to tie them up; and a very pretty nosegay they had made between them. But when he saw Grimes actually wash, he stopped, quite astonished; and when Grimes had finished, and began shaking his ears to dry them, he said:

    Why, master, I never saw you do that before.

    Nor will again, most likely. ’Twasn’t for cleanliness I did it, but for coolness. I’d be ashamed to want washing every week or so, like any smutty collier lad.

    I wish I might go and dip my head in, said poor little Tom. It must be as good as putting it under the town-pump; and there is no beadle here to drive a chap away.

    Thou come along, said Grimes; what dost want with washing thyself? Thou did not drink half a gallon of beer last night, like me.

    I don’t care for you, said naughty Tom, and ran down to the stream, and began washing his face.

    Grimes was very sulky, because the woman preferred Tom’s company to his; so he dashed at him with horrid words, and tore him up from his knees, and began beating him. But Tom was accustomed to that, and got his head safe between Mr. Grimes’ legs, and kicked his shins with all his might.

    Are you not ashamed of yourself, Thomas Grimes? cried the Irishwoman over the wall.

    Grimes looked up, startled at her knowing his name; but all he answered was, No, nor never was yet; and went on beating Tom.

    True for you. If you ever had been ashamed of yourself, you would have gone over into Vendale long ago.

    What do you know about Vendale? shouted Grimes; but he left off beating Tom.

    I know about Vendale, and about you, too. I know, for instance, what happened in Aldermire Copse, by night, two years ago come Martinmas.

    You do? shouted Grimes; and leaving Tom, he climbed up over the wall, and faced the woman. Tom thought he was going to strike her; but she looked him too full and fierce in the face for that.

    Yes; I was there, said the Irishwoman quietly.

    You are no Irishwoman, by your speech, said Grimes, after many bad words.

    Never mind who I am. I saw what I saw; and if you strike that boy again, I can tell what I know.

    Grimes seemed quite cowed, and got on his donkey without another word.

    Stop! said the Irishwoman. I have one more word for you both; for you will both see me again before all is over. Those that wish to be clean, clean they will be; and those that wish to be foul, foul they will be. Remember.

    And she turned away, and through a gate into the meadow. Grimes stood still a moment, like a man who had been stunned. Then he rushed after her, shouting, You come back. But when he got into the meadow, the woman was not there.

    Had she hidden away? There was no place to hide in. But Grimes looked about, and Tom also, for he was as puzzled as Grimes himself at her disappearing so suddenly; but look where they would, she was not there.

    Grimes came back again, as silent as a post, for he was a little frightened; and, getting on his donkey, filled a fresh pipe, and smoked away, leaving Tom in peace.

    And now they had gone three miles and more, and came to Sir John’s lodge-gates.

    Very grand lodges they were, with very grand iron gates and stone gate-posts, and on the top of each a most dreadful bogy, all teeth, horns, and tail, which was the crest which Sir John’s ancestors wore in the Wars of the Roses; and very prudent men they were to wear it, for all their enemies must have run for their lives at the very first sight of them.

    Grimes rang at the gate, and out came a keeper on the spot, and opened.

    I was told to expect thee, he said. Now thou’lt be so good as to keep to the main avenue, and not let me find a hare or a rabbit on thee when thou comest back. I shall look sharp for one, I tell thee.

    Not if it’s in the bottom of the soot-bag, quoth Grimes, and at that he laughed; and the keeper laughed and said:

    If that’s thy sort, I may as well walk up with thee to the hall.

    I think thou best had. It’s thy business to see after thy game, man, and not mine.

    So the keeper went with them; and, to Tom’s surprise, he and Grimes chatted together all the way quite pleasantly. He did not know that a keeper is only a poacher turned outside in, and a poacher a keeper turned inside out.

    They walked up a great lime avenue, a full mile long, and between their stems Tom peeped trembling at the horns of the sleeping deer, which stood up among the ferns. Tom had never seen such enormous trees, and as he looked up he fancied that the blue sky rested on their heads. But he was puzzled very much by a strange murmuring noise, which followed them all the way. So much puzzled, that at last he took courage to ask the keeper what it was.

    He spoke very civilly, and called him Sir, for he was horribly afraid of him, which pleased the keeper, and he told him that they were the bees about the lime flowers.

    What are bees? asked Tom.

    What make honey.

    What is honey? asked Tom.

    Thou hold thy noise,

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