Life — June 15, 1911 — page 34: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

‘LIP E Sparks From Old Anvils The Lovers A whip-top and a little ball were together in a drawer among some other toys, and the top said to the ball: “ Shall we not be bridegroom and bride, as we live together in the same box?” But the ball, which had a coat of morocco leather and was just as conceited as any fine lady, would make no answer to such a proposal. . N day the little boy came to whom the toys be- longed; he painted the top red and yellow and hammered a brass nail into it, and it looked splendid when the top turned round! “Look at me!” he cried to the ball. “What do you say now? Shall we not be engaged to each other? We suit one another so well! You jump and I dance! No one could be happier than we two should be.” “Indeed! Do you think so?” replied the little ball. “Perhaps you do not know my papa and mama were morocco slippers and that I have a Spanish cork inside of me?” “ Yes, but I am made of mahogany,” said the top; “and the Mayor himself turned me. He has a turning-lathe of his own and it amuses him greatly.” “Can I depend upon that?” asked the little ball. . “May I never be whipped again if it is not true!” re- plied the top. “You can speak well for yourself,” observed the ball, “but I cannot grant your request. 1 am as good as en- gaged to a swallow; every time I leap up into the air she puts her head out of her nest and says: * Will you?’ And now I have silently said ‘Yes,’ and that is as good as half engaged. But I promise I will never forget you.” “Yes, a lot of good that will be!” said the top. And they spoke no more to each other. The next day the ball was taken out by the boy. The top saw how it flew high into the air, like a bird; at last one could no longer see it. Each time it came back again, but gave a high leap when it touched the earth, and that was done either from its longing to mount up again or because it had a Spanish cork in its body. But the ninth time the little ball remained absent and did not come back again, and the boy sought and sought, but it was gone. “T know very well where it is!” sighed the top. “It is in the swallow’s nest and has married the swallow.” The more the top thought of this the more it longed for the ball. Just because it could not get the ball its love increased, and the fact that the ball had chosen another formed a peculiar feature in the case. So the top danced around and hummed, but always thought of the little ball, which became more and more beautiful in his fancy. Thus several years went by and now it was an old love. And the top was no longer young! But one day he was gilt all over; never had he looked so handsome; he was now a golden top, and sprang till he hummed again. Yes, that was something worth seeing! But all at once he sprang up too high, and—he was gone. hey looked and looked, even in the cellar, but he was not to be found. Where could he be? He had jumped into the dust-box, where all kinds of things were lying; cabbage stalks, sweepings and rubbish that had fallen down from the roof. “Here's a nice place to be in! The gilding will soon leave me here. Among what a rabble have I alighted!” And then he looked sideways at a long, leafless cabbage stump and at a curious round thing that looked like an old apple; but it was not. an apple—it was an old ball which had lain for years in the gutter on the roof, and was quite saturated with water. “Thank goodness, here comes one of us with whom one can talk!” said the little ball, and looked at the gilt top. “I am really morocco, but no one would think it, to look at me. I was very nearly marrying a swallow, but I fell into the gutter on the roof, and have lain there fully five years and become quite wet through, You may be- lieve me, that’s a long time for a young girl. But the top said nothing. He thought of his old love; and the more he heard, the clearer it became to him that this was she. Then came the servant-girl and wanted to turn out the dust-box. “ Ah, there’s a gilt top!” she cried. And the top was brought again to notice and honor, but nothing was heard of the little ball. And the top spoke no more of his old love; for that dies away when the be- loved object has !ain for five years in a roof gutter and gets wet through. Yes, one does not know her again when one mects her in the dust-box.—Hans Christian Anderson. A Merrie Ancient Jest Skelton was an Englyshman borne, as Skogn was, and he was educated and broughte up at Oxfoorde, and there was he made Poete Lauriat. And on a tyme he had ben at Abbington to make mery, when that he‘had eate salte meates. And hee did com late home to Oxforde; and he did lie in an inne named the Tabere, whyche is now the Angell; and he did drynke and wente to bed. About midnight he was so thyrstie, or drye, that he was con- strained to call to the tapster for drynke, and the tapster heard him not. Then hee cryed to hys oste and hys ostes, and to the ostler for drinke. And no man would here hym. Alack! sayd Skelton, I shall peryshe for lacke of drynke. What reamedye? At the last he dyd crie out and sayd. “Fyer, fyer, fyer.” When Skelton heard every- man bustle hymself upward, and some of them were naked and some were half asleep and amased, and Skelton did crie Fyer, fyer! Styll that everyman knew not whether to resort. Skelton did go to bed and the ost and ostis and the tapster, with the ostler, dyd runne to Skelton’s cham- ber with candles lyghted in theyr hands, saying, “ Where, where, where, is the fyer?” “Here. here, Tere,” said Skelton, and poynted hys fynger to hys mouth, saying, fetch me some drynke to quench the fver and the heat and the drinesse in my mouth. And so they dyd.—Merrie Tales of Skelton. comicbooks.com