Books: Little Lucy\'s Wonderful Globe
C >>
Charlotte M. Yonge >> Little Lucy\'s Wonderful Globe
The wine-press was a great marble trough with pipes leading off
into other vessels around. Into it went the grapes, and in the
midst were men and boys and little children, all with bare feet
and legs up to the knees, dancing and leaping, and bounding and
skipping upon the grapes, while the red juice covered their brown
skins.
"Come in, come in; you don't know how charming it is!" cried Cecco.
"It is the best time of all the year, the dear vintage; come in and
tread the grapes."
"But you must take off your shoes and stockings," said his sister,
Nunziata; "we never wear them but on Sundays and holidays."
Lucy was not sure that she might, but the children looked so joyous,
and it seemed to be such fun, that she began fumbling with the
buttons of her boots, and while she was doing it she opened her eyes,
and found that her beautiful bunch of grapes was only the cushion in
the bottom of Mother Bunch's chair.
CHAPTER IV. GREENLAND.
"Now suppose I tried what the very cold countries are like!"
And Lucy bent over the globe till she was nearly ready to cut her
head off with the brass meridian, as she looked at the long, jagged
tongue, with no particular top to it, hanging down on the east side
of America. Perhaps it was the making herself so cold that did it,
but she found herself in the midst of snow, snow, snow! All was
snow except the sea, and that was a deep green, and in it were
monstrous, floating white things, pinnacled all over like a Cathedral,
and as big, and with hollows in them of glorious deep blue and green,
like jewels; Lucy knew they were icebergs. A sort of fringe of these
cliffs of ice hemmed in the shore. And on one of them stood what she
thought at first was a little brown bear, for the light was odd, the
sun was so very low down, and there was so much glare from the snow
that it seemed unnatural. However, before she had time to be afraid
of the bear, she saw that it was really a little boy, with a hood and
coat and leggings of thick, thick fur, and a spear in his hand, with
which he every now and then made a dash at a fish,--great cod fish,
such as Mamma had often on a Friday.
Into them went his spear, up came the poor fish, which was strung
with some others on a string the boy carried. Lucy crept up as
well as she could on the slippery ice, and the little Esquimaux
stared at her with a kind of stupid surprise.
"Is that the way you get fish?" she asked.
"Yes, and seals; father gets them," he said.
"Oh, what's that swimming out there?"
"That's a white bear," he said coolly; "we had better get home."
Lucy thought so indeed; only where was home?--that puzzled her.
However, she trotted along by the side of her companion, and
presently came to what might have been an enormous snow-ball, but
there was a hole in it. Yes, it was hollow; and as her companion
made for the opening, she saw more little stout figures rolled up
in furs inside. Then she perceived that it was a house built up of
blocks of snow, arranged so as to make the shape of a beehive, all
frozen together, and with a window of ice. It made her shiver to
think of going in, but she thought the white bear might come after
her, and in she went. Even her little head had to bend under the
low doorway, and behold, it was the very closest, stuffiest, if
not the hottest place she had ever been in! There was a kind of
lamp burning in the hut; that is, a wick was floating in some oil,
but there was no glass, such as Lucy had been apt to think the
chief part of a lamp, and all round it squatted upon skins these
queer little stumpy figures dressed so much alike that there was
no knowing the men from the women, except that the women had much
bigger boots, and used them instead of pockets, and they had their
babies in bags of skin upon their backs.
They seemed to be kind people, for they made room near their lamp
for the little girl, and asked her where she had been wrecked.
Then one of the women cut off a great lump of raw something--was
it a walrus, with that round head and big tusks?--and held it up
to her; and when Lucy shook her head and said, "No, thank you," as
civilly as she could, the woman tore it in two, and handed a lump
over her shoulder to her baby, who began to gnaw it. Then her
first friend, the little boy, hoping to please her better, offered
her some drink. Ah! it was oil, just like the oil that was burning
in the lamp!--horrid oil from the whales! She could not help
shaking her head; and so much that she woke herself up!
CHAPTER V. TYROL.
"Suppose I could see where that dear little black chamois horn came
from! But Mother Bunch can't tell me about that I'm afraid, for she
always went by sea, and here's the Tyrol without one bit of sea near
it. It's just one of the strings to the great knot of mountains
that tie Europe up in the middle. Oh! what is a mountain like?"
Then suddenly came on Lucy's ears a loud blast like a trumpet; another
answered it farther off, another fainter still, and as she started up
she found she was standing on a little shelf of green grass with steep
slopes of stones and rock above, below, and around her; and rising up
all round were huge, tall hills, their smooth slopes green and grassy,
but in the steep places all terrible cliff and precipice; and as they
were seen further away they looked a beautiful purple, like a thunder-
cloud.
Close to Lucy grew blue gentians like those in Mamma's garden, and
Alpine roses, and black orchids; but she did not know how to come
down, and was getting rather frightened, when a clear little voice
said, "Little lady, have you lost your way? Wait till the evening
hymn is over, and I'll come and help you;" and then Lucy stood and
listened, while from all the peaks whence the horns had been blown
there came the strong, sweet sound of an evening hymn, all joining
together, while there arose distant echoes of others farther away.
When it was over, one shout of "Jodel" echoed from each point, and
then all was still except for the tinkling of a cow-bell. "That's
the way we wish each other good night," said the little girl, as
the shadows mounted high on the tops of the mountains, leaving them
only peaks of rosy light. "Now come to the chalet, and sister Rose
will give you some milk."
"Help me. I'm afraid," said Lucy.
"That is nothing," said the mountain maiden springing up to her like
a kid, in spite of her great heavy shoes; "you should see the places
Father and Seppel climb when they hunt the chamois."
"What is your name?" asked Lucy, who much liked the looks of her
little companion in her broad straw hat, with a bunch of Alpine
roses in it, her thick striped frock, and white body and sleeves,
braced with black ribbon; it was such a pleasant, fresh, open face,
with such rosy cheeks and kindly blue eyes, that Lucy felt quite
at home.
"I am little Katherl. This is the first time I have come up with
Rose to the chalet, but I am big enough to milk the cows now. Ah!
do you see Daisy, the black one with a white tuft? She is our
leading cow, and she knows it, the darling. She never lets the
others get into dangerous places; she leads them home at the sound
of a horn; and when we go back to the village she will lead the
herd with a flower on the point of each horn, and a wreath round
her neck. The men will come up for us, Seppel and all; and may be
Seppel will bring the prize medal for shooting with the rifle."
"But what do you do up here?"
"We girls go up for the summer with the cows to the pastures, the
grass is so rich and good on the mountains, and we make butter and
cheese. Wait, and you shall taste. Sit down on the stone."
Lucy was glad to hear that promise, for the fresh mountain air had
made her hungry. Katherl skipped away towards a house with a
projecting wooden balcony, and deep eaves, beautifully carved, and
came back with a slice of bread and delicious butter, and a good
piece of cheese, all on a wooden platter, and a little bowl of new
milk. Lucy thought she had never tasted anything so nice.
"And now the gracious little lady will rest a little while," said
Katherl, "whilst I go and help Rose to strain the milk."
So Lucy waited, but she felt so tired with her scramble that she
could not help nodding off to sleep, though she would have liked
very much to have stayed longer with the dear little Tyrolese.
But we know by this time where she always found herself when
she awoke.
CHAPTER VI. AFRICA.
Oh! oh! here is a little dried crocodile come alive, and opening a
horrid great mouth, lined with terrible teeth, at her.
No, he is no longer in the museum; he is in a broad river, yellow,
heavy, and thick with mud; the borders are crowded with enormous
reeds and rushes; there is no getting through; no breaking away
from him; here he comes; horrid, horrid beast! Oh, how could Lucy
have been so foolish as to want to travel in Africa up to the higher
parts of the Nile? How will she ever get back again? He will gobble
her up, her and Clare, who was trusted to her, and what will mamma
and sister do?
Hark! There's a cry, a great shout, and out jumps a little black
figure, with a stout club in his hand. Crash it goes down on the
head of master crocodile. The ugly beast is turning over on its
back and dying. Then Lucy has time to look at the little negro,
and he has time to look at her. What a droll figure he is, with
his wooly head and thick lips, the whites of his eyes and his teeth
gleaming so brightly, and his fat little black person shining all
over, as well it may, for he is rubbed from head to foot with castor-
oil. There it grows on the bush, with broad, beautiful, folded
leaves and red stems and the pretty grey and black nuts. Lucy
only wishes the negroes would keep it all to polish themselves
with, and not send any home.
She wants to give the little black fellow some reward for saving her
from the crocodile, and luckily Clare has on her long necklace of
blue glass beads. She puts it into his hand, and he twists it round
his black wool, and cuts such dances and capers for joy that Lucy
can hardly stand for laughing; but the sun shines scorching hot upon
her, and she gets under the shade of a tall date palm, with big
leaves all shooting out together at the top, and fine bunches of
dates below, all fresh and green, not like those papa sometimes
gives her at dessert.
The little negro, Tojo, asks if she would like some. He takes her
by the hand, and leads her into a whole cluster of little round mud
huts, telling her that he is Tojo, the king's son; she is his little
sister and these are all his mothers! Which is his real mother Lucy
cannot quite make out, for she sees an immense party of black women,
all shiny and polished, with a great many beads wound round their
heads, necks, ankles, and wrists; and nothing besides the tiniest
short petticoats: and all the fattest are the smartest; indeed, they
have gourds of milk beside them, and are drinking it all day long
to keep themselves fat. No sooner however is Lucy led in among them,
than they all close round, some singing and dancing, and others
laughing for joy, and crying, "Welcome, little daughter from the
land of spirits!" And then she finds out that they think she is
really Tojo's little sister, who died ten moons ago, come back
again from the grave as a white spirit.
Tojo's own mother, a very fat woman indeed, holds out her arms, as
big as bed-posts and terribly greasy, gives her a dose of sour milk
out of a gourd, makes her lie down with her head in her lap, and
begins to sing to her, till Lucy goes to sleep; and wakes, very
glad to see the crocodile as brown and hard and immovable as ever;
and that odd round gourd with a little hole in it, hanging up near
the ceiling.
CHAPTER VII. LAPLANDERS.
"It shall not be a hot country next time," said Lucy, "though, after
all, the whale oil was not much worse than the castor oil.--Mother
Bunch, did your whaler always go to Greenland, and never to any
nicer place?"
"Well, Missie, once we were driven between foul winds and icebergs
up into a fiord near North Cape, right at midsummer, and I'll never
forget what we saw there."
Lucy was not likely to forget, either, for she found herself standing
by a narrow inlet of sea, as blue and smooth as a lake, and closely
shut in, except where the bare rock was too steep, or where on a
somewhat smoother shelf stood a timbered house, with a farm-yard and
barns all round it. But the odd thing was that the sun was where
she had never seen him before,--quite in the north, making all the
shadows come the wrong way. But how came the sun to be visible at
all so very late? Ah! she knew it now; this was Norway, and at this
time of the year there was no night at all!
And here beside her was a little fellow with a bow and arrows, such
as she had never seen before, except in the hands of the little
Cupids in the pictures in the drawing-room. Mother Bunch had said
that the little brown boys in India looked like the bronze Cupid who
was on the mantleshelf, but this little boy was white, or rather
sallow-faced, and well dressed too, in a tight, round, leather cap,
and a dark blue kind of shaggy gown with hairy leggings; and what
he was shooting at was some kind of wild-duck or goose, that came
tumbling down heavily with the arrow right through its neck.
"There," said the boy, "I'll take that, and sell it to the Norse
farmer's wife up in the house above there."
"Who are you, then?" said Lucy.
"I'm a Lapp. We live on the hills, where the Norseman has not driven
us away, and where the reindeer find their grass in summer and moss
in winter."
"Oh! have you got reindeer? I should so like to see them and to
drive in a sledge!"
The boy, whose name was Peder, laughed, and said, "You can't go in a
sledge except when it is winter, with snow and ice to go upon, but
I'll soon show you a reindeer."
Then he led the way, past the deliciously smelling, whispering pine
woods that sheltered the Norwegian homestead, past a seater or
mountain meadow where the girls were pasturing their cows, much like
Lucy's friends in the Tyrol, then out upon the gray moorland, where
there was an odd little cluster of tents covered with skins, and
droll little, short, stumpy people running about them.
Peder gave a curious long cry, put his hand in his pocket, and pulled
out a lump of salt. Presently, a pair of long horns appeared, then
another, then a whole herd of the deer with big heads and horns
growing a good deal forward. The salt was held to them, and a rope
was fastened to all their horns that they might stand still in a
line, while the little Lapp women milked them. Peder went up to
one of the women, and brought back a little cupful of milk for his
visitor; it was all that one deer gave, but it was so rich as to be
almost like drinking cream.
He led her into one of the tents, but it was very smoky, and not
much cleaner than the tent of the Esquimaux. It is a wonder how
Lucy could go to sleep there, but she did, heartily wishing herself
somewhere else.
CHAPTER VIII. CHINA.
Was it the scent of the perfumed tea, a present from an old sailor
friend, which Mrs. Bunker was putting away, or was it the sight of
the red jar ornamented with black-and-gold men, with round caps,
long petticoats, and pigtails, that caused Lucy next to open her
eyes upon a cane sofa, with cushions ornamented with figures in
colored silks? The floor of the room was of shining inlaid wood;
there were beautifully woven mats all round; stands made of red
lacquer work, and seats of cane and bamboo; and there was a round
window, through which could be seen a beautiful garden, full of
flowering shrubs and trees, a clear pond lined with colored tiles
in the middle, and over the wall the gilded roof of a pagoda, like
an umbrella, only all in ridge and furrow, and with a little bell
at every spoke. Beyond, were beautifully and fantastically shaped
hills, and a lake below with pleasure boats on it. It was all
wonderfully like a pretty china bowl come to life, and Lucy knew
she was in China, even before there came into the room, toddling
upon her poor little, tiny feet, a young lady with a small yellow
face, little slips of eyes sloping upwards from her flat nose, and
black hair combed up very tight from her face and twisted with
flowers and ornaments. She had ever so many robes on, the edge
of one peeping out below the other, and at the top a sort of blue
China-crape tunic, with very wide, loose sleeves dropping an immense
way from her hands. There was no gathering in at the waist, and
it reached to her knees, where a still more splendid white silk,
embroidered, trailed along. She had a big fan in her hand; but
when she saw the visitor she went up to a beautiful little, low
table, with an ivory frill round it, where stood some dainty,
delicate tea-cups and saucers. Into one of these she put a little
ball, about as big as an oak-apple, of tea-leaves; a maid dressed
like herself poured hot water on it, and handed it on a lacquer-
work tray. Lucy took it, said, "Thank you," and then waited.
"Is it not good?" said the little hostess.
"It must be! You are the real tea people," said Lucy: "but I was
waiting for sugar and milk."
"That would spoil it," said the Chinese damsel; "only outer barbarians
would think of such a thing. And, ah! I see you are one! See, Ki-hi,
what monstrous feet!"
"They are not bigger than your maid's," said Lucy rather disgusted.
"Why are yours so small?"
"Because my mother and nurse took care of me when I was a baby, and
bound them up that they might not grow big and ugly like those of
the poor creatures who have to run about for their husbands, feed
silk worms, and tend ducks!"
"But shouldn't you like to walk without almost tumbling down?"
said Lucy.
"No, indeed! Me a daughter of a mandarin of the blue button! You
are a mere barbarian to think a lady ought to want to walk. Do you
not see that I never do anything? Look at my lovely nails."
"I think they are claws," said Lucy; "do you never break them?"
"No; when they are a little longer, I shall wear silver shields for
them as my mother does."
"And do you really never work?"
"I should think not," said the young lady, scornfully fanning herself;
"I leave that to the common folk, who are obliged to. Come with me and
let me lean on you, and I will give you a peep through the lattice, that
you may see that my father is far above making his daughter work. See,
there he sits, with his moustachios hanging down to his chin, and his
pig-tail to his heels, and the blue dragon embroidered on his breast,
watching while they prepare the hall for a grand dinner. There will be
a stew of puppy dog, and another of kittens, and bird's-nest soup; and
then the players will come and act part of the nine-night tragedy, and
we will look through the lattice. Ah! father is smoking opium, that he
may be serene and in good spirits! Does it make your head ache? Ah!
that is because your are a mere outer barbarian. She is asleep, Ki-hi;
lay her on the sofa, and let her sleep. How ugly her pale hair is,
almost as bad as her big feet!"
CHAPTER IX. KAMSCHATKA.
Lucy had been disappointed at not having a drive with the reindeer,
and she had been telling Don how useful his relations were in other
places. Behold, she awoke in a wide plain, where, as far as her eye
could reach, there was nothing but snow. The few fir-trees that
stood in the distance were heavily laden; and Lucy herself,--where
was she? Going very fast? Yes, whisking over the snow with all
her might and main, and muffled up in cloaks and furs, as indeed
was necessary, for her breath froze upon the big muffler round her
throat, so that it seemed to become as hard as a stone wall; and by
her side was a little boy, muffled up quite as close, with a cap, or
rather hood, casing his whole head, his hands gloved in fur up to
the elbows, and long fur boots. He had an immense long whip in his
hand, and was flourishing it, and striking with it--at what? They
were an enormous way off from him, but they really were very big
dogs, rushing along like the wind, and bearing along with them--
what? Lucy's ambition--a sledge, a thing without wheels, but
gliding along most rapidly on the hard snow; flying, flying almost
fast enough to take away her breath, and leaving birds, foxes, and
any creature she saw for one instant, far behind. And--what was
very odd--the young driver had no reins; he shouted at the dogs
and now and then threw a stick at them, and they quite seemed to
understand, and turned when he wanted them to turn. Lucy wondered
how he or they knew the way, it all seemed such a waste of snow.
They went so fast that at first she was unable to speak; then she
ventured on gasping out, "Well, I've been in an express train, but
this beats it! Where are you going?"
"To Petropawlowsky, to change these skins for coffee, and rice, and
rice," answered the boy.
"What skins are they?" asked Lucy.
"Bears'--big brown bears that father killed in a cave--and wolves'
and those of the little ermine and sable that we trap. We get much,
much for the white ermine and his black tail. Father's coming in
another sledge with, oh! such a big pile. Don't you hear his dogs
yelp? We'll win the race yet! Ugh! hoo! hoo! ho-o-o-o!--On! on!
lazy ones, on, I say! don't let the old dogs catch the young ones!"
Crack, crack, went the whip; the dogs yelped with eagerness,--they
don't bark, those Northern dogs; the little Kamschatkadale bawled
louder and louder, and never saw when Lucy rolled off behind, and
was left in the middle of a huge snowdrift, while he flew on with
his load.
Here were his father's dogs overtaking her; and then some one was
picking her up. No, it was Don! and here was Mrs. Bunker exclaiming,
"Well, if here is not Miss Lucy asleep on Master's old bearskin!"
CHAPTER X. THE TURK.
"What a beautiful long necklace, Mrs. Bunker! May I have it for
Lonicera?"
"You may play with it while you are here, Missie, if you'll take
care not to break the string, but it is too curious for you to take
home and lose. It is what they call a Turkish rosary; they say it
is made of rose-leaves reduced to a paste and squeezed ever so hard
together, and that the poor ladies that are shut up in the harems
have little or nothing to do but to run them through their fingers."
"It has a very nice smell," said Lucy, examining the dark brown beads,
which hung loosely on their string, and letting them fall one by one
through her hands, till of course that happened which she was hoping
for: she woke on a long, low sofa, in the midst of a room all carpet
and cushions, in bright colors and gorgeous patterns, curling about
with no particular meaning; and with a window of rich brass lattice-
work.
And by her side there was an odd bubbling that put her in mind of
blowing the soap-suds into a froth when preparing them for bubble
blowing; but when she looked round she saw something very unlike
the long pipes her big brother used, or the basin of soap-suds.
There was a beautifully shaped glass bottle, and into it went a
very long twisting tube, like a snake coiled on the floor, and the
other end of the serpent, instead of a head, had an amber mouth-
piece which went between a pair of lips. Lucy knew it for a hubble-
bubble or Turkish pipe, and saw that the lips were in a brown face,
with big black eyes, round which dark bluish circles were drawn.
The jet-black hair was carefully braided with jewels, and over
it was thrown a purple satin sort of pelisse over a white silk
embroidered vest, tied in with a sash, striped with all manner
of colors; also immense wide white trousers, out of which peeped
a pair of brown bare feet, on which, however, were a splendid pair
of slippers curled up at the toes.
The owner seemed to be very little older than Lucy, and sat gravely
looking at her for a little while, then clapped her hands. A black
woman came, and the young Turkish maiden said, "Bring coffee for the
little Frank lady."
So a tiny table of mother-of-pearl was brought, and on it some exquisite
little striped porcelain cups, standing not in saucers, but in silver
filigree cups into which they exactly fitted. Lucy remembered her
Chinese experience, and did not venture to ask for milk or sugar, but
she found that the real Turkish coffee was so pure and delicate that
she could drink it without.
"Where are your jewels?" then asked the little hostess.
"I'm not old enough to have any."
"How old are you?"
"Nine."
"Nine! I'm only ten, and I shall be married next week---"
"Married! Oh, no, you are joking."
"Yes, I shall. Selim Bey has paid my father the dowry for me, and I
shall be taken to his house next week."
"And I suppose you like him very much."
"He looks big and tall," said the child with exultation. "I saw him
riding when I went with my mother to the Sweet Waters. 'Amina,' she
said, 'there is your lord, in the Frankish coat--with the white horse.'"