The Christmas Cuckoo

: CHRISTMAS DAY
: Good Stories For Great Holidays

BY FRANCES BROWNE (ADAPTED)



Once upon a time there stood in the midst of a bleak moor, in the North

Country, a certain village. All its inhabitants were poor, for their

fields were barren, and they had little trade; but the poorest of them

all were two brothers called Scrub and Spare, who followed the cobbler's

craft. Their hut was built of clay and wattles. The door was low and

always open, for there was no window. The roof did not entirely keep out

the rain and the only thing comfortable was a wide fireplace, for which

the brothers could never find wood enough to make sufficient fire.

There they worked in most brotherly friendship, though with little

encouragement.



On one unlucky day a new cobbler arrived in the village. He had lived in

the capital city of the kingdom and, by his own account, cobbled for the

queen and the princesses. His awls were sharp, his lasts were new; he

set up his stall in a neat cottage with two windows. The villagers soon

found out that one patch of his would outwear two of the brothers'.

In short, all the mending left Scrub and Spare, and went to the new

cobbler.



The season had been wet and cold, their barley did not ripen well, and

the cabbages never half-closed in the garden. So the brothers were poor

that winter, and when Christmas came they had nothing to feast on but

a barley loaf and a piece of rusty bacon. Worse than that, the snow was

very deep and they could get no firewood.



Their hut stood at the end of the village; beyond it spread the bleak

moor, now all white and silent. But that moor had once been a forest;

great roots of old trees were still to be found in it, loosened from

the soil and laid bare by the winds and rains. One of these, a rough,

gnarled log, lay hard by their door, the half of it above the snow, and

Spare said to his brother:--



"Shall we sit here cold on Christmas while the great root lies yonder?

Let us chop it up for firewood, the work will make us warm."



"No," said Scrub, "it's not right to chop wood on Christmas; besides,

that root is too hard to be broken with any hatchet."



"Hard or not, we must have a fire," replied Spare. "Come, brother, help

me in with it. Poor as we are there is nobody in the village will have

such a yule log as ours."



Scrub liked a little grandeur, and, in hopes of having a fine yule log,

both brothers strained and strove with all their might till, between

pulling and pushing, the great old root was safe on the hearth, and

beginning to crackle and blaze with the red embers.



In high glee the cobblers sat down to their bread and bacon. The door

was shut, for there was nothing but cold moonlight and snow outside;

but the hut, strewn with fir boughs and ornamented with holly, looked

cheerful as the ruddy blaze flared up and rejoiced their hearts.



Then suddenly from out the blazing root they heard: "Cuckoo! cuckoo!"

as plain as ever the spring-bird's voice came over the moor on a May

morning.



"What is that?" said Scrub, terribly frightened; "it is something bad!"



"Maybe not," said Spare.



And out of the deep hole at the side of the root, which the fire had not

reached, flew a large, gray cuckoo, and lit on the table before them.

Much as the cobblers had been surprised, they were still more so when it

said:--



"Good gentlemen, what season is this?"



"It's Christmas," said Spare.



"Then a merry Christmas to you!" said the cuckoo. "I went to sleep in

the hollow of that old root one evening last summer, and never woke till

the heat of your fire made me think it was summer again. But now since

you have burned my lodging, let me stay in your hut till the spring

comes round,--I only want a hole to sleep in, and when I go on my

travels next summer be assured I will bring you some present for your

trouble."



"Stay and welcome," said Spare, while Scrub sat wondering if it were

something bad or not.



"I'll make you a good warm hole in the thatch," said Spare. "But you

must be hungry after that long sleep,--here is a slice of barley bread.

Come help us to keep Christmas!"



The cuckoo ate up the slice, drank water from a brown jug, and flew into

a snug hole which Spare scooped for it in the thatch of the hut.



Scrub said he was afraid it wouldn't be lucky; but as it slept on and

the days passed he forgot his fears.



So the snow melted, the heavy rains came, the cold grew less, the days

lengthened, and one sunny morning the brothers were awakened by the

cuckoo shouting its own cry to let them know the spring had come.



"Now I'm going on my travels," said the bird, "over the world to tell

men of the spring. There is no country where trees bud, or flowers

bloom, that I will not cry in before the year goes round. Give me

another slice of barley bread to help me on my journey, and tell me what

present I shall bring you at the twelvemonth's end."



Scrub would have been angry with his brother for cutting so large a

slice, their store of barley being low, but his mind was occupied with

what present it would be most prudent to ask for.



"There are two trees hard by the well that lies at the world's end,"

said the cuckoo; "one of them is called the golden tree, for its leaves

are all of beaten gold. Every winter they fall into the well with a

sound like scattered coin, and I know not what becomes of them. As for

the other, it is always green like a laurel. Some call it the wise, and

some the merry, tree. Its leaves never fall, but they that get one

of them keep a blithe heart in spite of all misfortunes, and can make

themselves as merry in a hut as in a palace."



"Good master cuckoo, bring me a leaf off that tree!" cried Spare.



"Now, brother, don't be a fool!" said Scrub; "think of the leaves of

beaten gold! Dear master cuckoo, bring me one of them!"



Before another word could be spoken the cuckoo had flown out of the open

door, and was shouting its spring cry over moor and meadow.



The brothers were poorer than ever that year. Nobody would send them a

single shoe to mend, and Scrub and Spare would have left the village

but for their barley-field and their cabbage-garden. They sowed their

barley, planted their cabbage, and, now that their trade was gone,

worked in the rich villagers' fields to make out a scanty living.



So the seasons came and passed; spring, summer, harvest, and winter

followed each other as they have done from the beginning. At the end of

the latter Scrub and Spare had grown so poor and ragged that their old

neighbors forgot to invite them to wedding feasts or merrymakings,

and the brothers thought the cuckoo had forgotten them, too, when at

daybreak on the first of April they heard a hard beak knocking at their

door, and a voice crying:--



"Cuckoo! cuckoo! Let me in with my presents!"



Spare ran to open the door, and in came the cuckoo, carrying on one

side of its bill a golden leaf larger than that of any tree in the North

Country; and in the other side of its bill, one like that of the common

laurel, only it had a fresher green.



"Here," it said, giving the gold to Scrub and the green to Spare, "it is

a long carriage from the world's end. Give me a slice of barley bread,

for I must tell the North Country that the spring has come."



Scrub did not grudge the thickness of that slice, though it was cut

from their last loaf. So much gold had never been in the cobbler's hands

before, and he could not help exulting over his brother.



"See the wisdom of my choice," he said, holding up the large leaf of

gold. "As for yours, as good might be plucked from any hedge, I wonder a

sensible bird would carry the like so far."



"Good master cobbler," cried the cuckoo, finishing its slice,

"your conclusions are more hasty than courteous. If your brother is

disappointed this time, I go on the same journey every year, and for

your hospitable entertainment will think it no trouble to bring each of

you whichever leaf you desire."



"Darling cuckoo," cried Scrub, "bring me a golden one."



And Spare, looking up from the green leaf on which he gazed as though it

were a crown-jewel, said:--



"Be sure to bring me one from the merry tree."



And away flew the cuckoo.



"This is the feast of All Fools, and it ought to be your birthday," said

Scrub. "Did ever man fling away such an opportunity of getting rich?

Much good your merry leaves will do in the midst of rags and poverty!"



But Spare laughed at him, and answered with quaint old proverbs

concerning the cares that come with gold, till Scrub, at length getting

angry, vowed his brother was not fit to live with a respectable man; and

taking his lasts, his awls, and his golden leaf, he left the wattle hut,

and went to tell the villagers.



They were astonished at the folly of Spare, and charmed with Scrub's

good sense, particularly when he showed them the golden leaf, and told

that the cuckoo would bring him one every spring.



The new cobbler immediately took him into partnership; the greatest

people sent him their shoes to mend. Fairfeather, a beautiful village

maiden, smiled graciously upon him; and in the course of that summer

they were married, with a grand wedding feast, at which the whole

village danced except Spare, who was not invited, because the bride

could not bear his low-mindedness, and his brother thought him a

disgrace to the family.



As for Scrub he established himself with Fairfeather in a cottage close

by that of the new cobbler, and quite as fine. There he mended shoes to

everybody's satisfaction, had a scarlet coat and a fat goose for

dinner on holidays. Fairfeather, too, had a crimson gown, and fine blue

ribbons; but neither she nor Scrub was content, for to buy this grandeur

the golden leaf had to be broken and parted With piece by piece, so the

last morsel was gone before the cuckoo came with another.



Spare lived on in the old hut, and worked in the cabbage-garden. (Scrub

had got the barley-field because he was the elder.) Every day his coat

grew more ragged, and the hut more weather-beaten; but people remarked

that he never looked sad or sour. And the wonder was that, from the time

any one began to keep his company, he or she grew kinder, happier, and

content.



Every first of April the cuckoo came tapping at their doors with the

golden leaf for Scrub, and the green for Spare. Fairfeather would have

entertained it nobly with wheaten bread and honey, for she had some

notion of persuading it to bring two golden leaves instead of one; but

the cuckoo flew away to eat barley bread with Spare, saying it was not

fit company for fine people, and liked the old hut where it slept so

snugly from Christmas till spring.



Scrub spent the golden leaves, and remained always discontented; and

Spare kept the merry ones.



I do not know how many years passed in this manner, when a certain great

lord, who owned that village, came to the neighborhood. His castle stood

on the moor. It was ancient and strong, with high towers and a deep

moat. All the country as far as one could see from the highest turret

belonged to its lord; but he had not been there for twenty years, and

would not have come then only he was melancholy. And there he lived in

a very bad temper. The servants said nothing would please him, and the

villagers put on their worst clothes lest he should raise their rents.



But one day in the harvest-time His Lordship chanced to meet Spare

gathering water-cresses at a meadow stream, and fell into talk with the

cobbler. How it was nobody could tell, but from that hour the great lord

cast away his melancholy. He forgot all his woes, and went about with a

noble train, hunting, fishing, and making merry in his hall, where all

travelers were entertained, and all the poor were welcome.



This strange story spread through the North Country, and great company

came to the cobbler's hut,--rich men who had lost their money, poor men

who had lost their friends, beauties who had grown old, wits who had

gone out of fashion,--all came to talk with Spare, and, whatever their

troubles had been, all went home merry.



The rich gave him presents, the poor gave him thanks. Spare's coat

ceased to be ragged, he had bacon with his cabbage, and the villagers

began to think there was some sense in him.





By this time his fame had reached the capital city, and even the court.

There were a great many discontented people there; and the king had

lately fallen into ill humor because a neighboring princess, with seven

islands for her dowry, would not marry his eldest son.



So a royal messenger was sent to Spare, with a velvet mantle, a diamond

ring, and a command that he should repair to court immediately.



"To-morrow is the first of April," said Spare, "and I will go with you

two hours after sunrise."



The messenger lodged all night at the castle, and the cuckoo came at

sunrise with the merry leaf.



"Court is a fine place," it said, when the cobbler told it he was going,

"but I cannot come there; they would lay snares and catch me; so be

careful of the leaves I have brought you, and give me a farewell slice

of barley bread."



Spare was sorry to part with the cuckoo, little as he had of its

company, but he gave it a slice which would have broken Scrub's heart in

former times, it was so thick and large. And having sewed up the leaves

in the lining of his leather doublet, he set out with the messenger on

his way to court.



His coming caused great surprise there. Everybody wondered what the king

could see in such a common-looking man; but scarcely had His Majesty

conversed with him half an hour, when the princess and her seven islands

were forgotten and orders given that a feast for all comers should be

spread in the banquet hall.



The princes of the blood, the great lords and ladies, the ministers of

state, after that discoursed with Spare, and the more they talked the

lighter grew their hearts, so that such changes had never been seen at

court.



The lords forgot their spites and the ladies their envies, the princes

and ministers made friends among themselves, and the judges showed no

favor.



As for Spare, he had a chamber assigned him in the palace, and a seat

at the king's table. One sent him rich robes, and another costly jewels;

but in the midst of all his grandeur he still wore the leathern doublet,

and continued to live at the king's court, happy and honored, and making

all others merry and content.