
* A Project Gutenberg Canada Ebook *

This ebook is made available at no cost and with very few
restrictions. These restrictions apply only if (1) you make
a change in the ebook (other than alteration for different
display devices), or (2) you are making commercial use of
the ebook. If either of these conditions applies, please
check gutenberg.ca/links/licence.html before proceeding.

This work is in the Canadian public domain, but may be
under copyright in some countries. If you live outside
Canada, check your country's copyright laws.
IF THE BOOK IS UNDER COPYRIGHT IN YOUR COUNTRY,
DO NOT DOWNLOAD OR REDISTRIBUTE THIS FILE.

Title: Rodolph and his King
   [the eleventh story in "A Little Book of Profitable Tales"]
Author: Field, Eugene (1850-1895)
Date of first publication: 1889
Edition used as base for this ebook:
   New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1894
Date first posted: 28 July 2010
Date last updated: 28 July 2010
Project Gutenberg Canada ebook #581

This ebook was produced by:
David Edwards, woodie4
& the Online Distributed Proofreading Team
at http://www.pgdpcanada.net

This file was produced from images generously made available
by the Internet Archive/American Libraries




RODOLPH AND HIS KING.


"Tell me, Father," said the child at Rodolph's knee,--"tell me of the
king."

"There is no king, my child," said Rodolph. "What you have heard are old
women's tales. Do not believe them, for there is no king."

"But why, then," queried the child, "do all the people praise and call
on him; why do the birds sing of the king; and why do the brooks always
prattle his name, as they dance from the hills to the sea?"

"Nay," answered Rodolph, "you imagine these things; there is no king.
Believe me, child, there is no king."

So spake Rodolph; but scarcely had he uttered the words when the cricket
in the chimney corner chirped loudly, and his shrill notes seemed to
say: "The king--the king." Rodolph could hardly believe his ears. How
had the cricket learned to chirp these words? It was beyond all
understanding. But still the cricket chirped, and still his musical
monotone seemed to say, "The king--the king," until, with an angry
frown, Rodolph strode from his house, leaving the child to hear the
cricket's song alone.

But there were other voices to remind Rodolph of the king. The sparrows
were fluttering under the eaves, and they twittered noisily as Rodolph
strode along, "The king, king, king!" "The king, king, king," twittered
the sparrows, and their little tones were full of gladness and praise.

A thrush sat in the hedge, and she was singing her morning song. It was
a hymn of praise,--how beautiful it was! "The king--the king--the king,"
sang the thrush, and she sang, too, of his goodness,--it was a wondrous
song, and it was all about the king.

The doves cooed in the elm-trees. "Sing to us!" cried their little ones,
stretching out their pretty heads from the nests. Then the doves nestled
hard by and murmured lullabies, and the lullabies were of the king who
watched over and protected even the little birds in their nests.

Rodolph heard these things, and they filled him with anger.

"It is a lie!" muttered Rodolph; and in great petulance he came to the
brook.

How noisy and romping the brook was; how capricious, how playful, how
furtive! And how he called to the willows and prattled to the listening
grass as he scampered on his way. But Rodolph turned aside and his face
grew darker. He did not like the voice of the brook; for, lo! just as
the cricket had chirped and the birds had sung, so did this brook murmur
and prattle and sing ever of the king, the king, the king.

So, always after that, wherever Rodolph went, he heard voices that told
him of the king; yes, even in their quiet, humble way, the flowers
seemed to whisper the king's name, and every breeze that fanned his brow
had a tale to tell of the king and his goodness.

"But there is no king!" cried Rodolph. "They all conspire to plague me!
There is no king--there is no king!"

Once he stood by the sea and saw a mighty ship go sailing by. The waves
plashed on the shore and told stories to the pebbles and the sands.
Rodolph heard their thousand voices, and he heard them telling of the
king.

Then a great storm came upon the sea, a tempest such as never before had
been seen. The waves dashed mountain-high and overwhelmed the ship, and
the giant voices of the winds and waves cried of the king, the king! The
sailors strove in agony till all seemed lost. Then, when they could do
no more, they stretched out their hands and called upon the king to save
them,--the king, the king, the king!

Rodolph saw the tempest subside. The angry winds were lulled, and the
mountain waves sank into sleep, and the ship came safely into port. Then
the sailors sang a hymn of praise, and the hymn was of the king and to
the king.

"But there is no king!" cried Rodolph. "It is a lie; there is no king!"

Yet everywhere he went he heard always of the king; the king's name and
the king's praises were on every tongue; aye, and the things that had no
voices seemed to wear the king's name written upon them, until Rodolph
neither saw nor heard anything that did not mind him of the king.

Then, in great anger, Rodolph said: "I will go to the mountain-tops;
there I shall find no birds, nor trees, nor brooks, nor flowers to prate
of a monarch no one has ever seen. There shall there be no sea to vex me
with its murmurings, nor any human voice to displease me with its
superstitions."

So Rodolph went to the mountains, and he scaled the loftiest pinnacle,
hoping that there at last he might hear no more of that king whom none
had ever seen. And as he stood upon the pinnacle, what a mighty panorama
was spread before him, and what a mighty anthem swelled upon his ears!
The peopled plains, with their songs and murmurings, lay far below; on
every side the mountain peaks loomed up in snowy grandeur; and overhead
he saw the sky, blue, cold, and cloudless, from horizon to horizon.

What voice was that which spoke in Rodolph's bosom then as Rodolph's
eyes beheld this revelation?

"There is a king!" said the voice. "The king lives, and this is his
abiding-place!"

And how did Rodolph's heart stand still when he felt Silence proclaim
the king,--not in tones of thunder, as the tempest had proclaimed him,
nor in the singing voices of the birds and brooks, but so swiftly, so
surely, so grandly, that Rodolph's soul was filled with awe ineffable.

Then Rodolph cried: "There is a king, and I acknowledge him! Henceforth
my voice shall swell the songs of all in earth and air and sea that know
and praise his name!"

So Rodolph went to his home. He heard the cricket singing of the king;
yes, and the sparrows under the eaves, the thrush in the hedge, the
doves in the elms, and the brook, too, all singing of the king; and
Rodolph's heart was gladdened by their music. And all the earth and the
things of the earth seemed more beautiful to Rodolph now that he
believed in the king; and to the song all Nature sang Rodolph's voice
and Rodolph's heart made harmonious response.

"There _is_ a king, my child," said Rodolph to his little one. "Together
let us sing to him, for he is _our_ king, and his goodness abideth
forever and forever."

1885.




[End of _Rodolph and his King_ by Eugene Field]
