10
O
Don Quixote is probably the best-known
prose story at least by name of any ever
written It has supplied the English lan
guage w-ith a host of proverbs and with the
words "quixotism" and "quixotic." Its
Spanish is the standard of elegance In that
language and whole libraries have been
written in commentaries upon it.
Its publication Is supposed to have had ft
derided effect upon the Spanish character.
Hvron Bays: "Cervantes laughed Spain'a
chivalry away" but that was ft harsh Judg
ment. Yet, celebrated as the story of Don
Quixote is, comparatively few whose native
tongue was not Spanish, have ever read it
through: and of all the adventures of the
Knight of the Sorrowful Figure that of the
w indmills is the only one that Is really gen
erally known. It is a voluminous work, and
wonderfully fascinating though It Is in the
original, it must he confessed It Is ft trifle
tedious in most translations.
IN one of the villages of La Mancha
lived Alonzo Quixano, a single gentle
man of 50. spare of body and meager
of face, whose modest Income supported
him In frugal comfort until, to fill up his
spare time, which extended over moat of
the year, he began the reading of the
romances of chivalry. The continued
reading of these books finally turned the
poor gentleman's head, though In all
other matters he had an unusual shrewd
ness of understanding, and it was with
more alarm than surprise that his two
cronies, the curate and Master Nicholas,
the barber, learned one day that Alonzo
had dubbed himself Don Quixote de la
Mancha, and set out upon his aged and
bony steed with the avowed Intention of
reviving the practice of knight errantry.
He had donned an old suit of armor
which had belonged to his ' great-grandfather,
and as the helmet wanted a visor
he had constructed one of pasteboard.
As the steeds of all knights errant must
have names, the Don had called his "Ro
zlnante" a combination of "rozln," a
drudge horse, and 'ante-' before, which
might be held to signify that while the
dejected animal had formerly been a
drudge horse, he was now before all
drudge horses.
A knight errant not in love Is unthink
able, and this at first presented a seem
ingly Insuperable obstacle to Don Quix
ote's ambition's. But, fortunately, he re
membered that years ago he had for a
short time fancied himself enamored of
a peasant girl In the neighboring town
of Toboso. It was annoying that he
should have forgotten her name, but he
pitched upon Dulctnea as being a good
sounding one Dulclnea del Toboso and
she at once became In his disordered fan
cy the "peerless princess" for whose fa
vor lie sighed and whose charms it was
his duty to proclaim.
The knight's first sally did not take him
far from home: for, falling in with a
company of traveling merchants, whom
he attempted to charge because they
were not prompt enough In acknowledg
ing the virtues and charms of Dulclnea,
Rozlnante, being new to the chivalry
business, stumbled and fell In mid-career
and the Don. besides being injured by the
animal rolling on him. was so soundly be
labored by the merchants that he had
to be carried home and put to bed for
much needed repairs.
The priest and the barber burned or
confiscated the Don's whole library of
chivalrous romances In the vain hope
that when he got about again he woulff
forget his mania. But It was of no use;
and before long the Don had taken to the
road again, this time accompanied by a
neighboring rustic, an honest but shallow-brained
person, to whom he promised
the government of an Island, such being
the usual reward of faithful squires.
This squire. Sancho Panza by name, was
as short and stout as his master was
long and lean, and he rode forth to val
orous deeds upon his beloved ass. Dapple.
All the squires Don Quixote had ever
read of rode upon horses, but even a
knight errant must sometimes yield to
the exigencies of a situation.
Don Quixote had patched up his helmet
and provided himself with a new lance,
and now as he proceeded over the plains
of Montlel and the sun was rising, he
cried out to the squire: "Look yonder,
friend sancho. where thou mayest dis
cover somewhat more than thirty mon
strous giants whom I Intend to encounter
and slay."
"What giants?" said- Sancho.
"Those thou seest yonder with their
long arms." replied the knight.
"Look you. sir.-' replied the squire,
"those are not giants, but windmills."
"It is very evident." retorted the Don,
"that you do not know much about chiv
alry." and clapping spurs to Rozlnante
he went charging full tilt at one of the
windmills, the sails of which were Just
beginning to revolve In the morning
breeze. The whirling sail caught the
lance, broke It to splinters and sent
horse and rider rolling over and over
on the plain.
"God save us"' cried Sancho, as he
rame running up. "Did I not warn you
that those were windmills, and no one
could mistake them for anything else
who had not the like in his head?"
Don Quixote, sitting ruefully on the
ground, managed to say: "Peace. Tou
are not versed in matters of war. A
wicked magician has changed these
giants into windmills so as to deprive me
of the glory of subduing them."
They passed the night under a tree,
from which the knight tore a withered
branch to serve in place of his broken
lance, and on the morrow resumed
their adventurous quest. After several
minor adventures they saw advancing
toward them two monks of the Order
of St. Benedict, mounted upon mules,
wearing traveling masks and carrying
umbrellas. Behind them came a coach
accompanied by four or five men on
horseback and two muelteers on foot.
In the coach was a Blscalne lady go
ing to Join her usband' at Seville. The
monks were not In her company, but
only happened to be traveling the same
road.
"Hah!" cried Don Quixote, "either I
am much deceived or those black fig
ures are enchanters carrying off some
Trincess whom they have stolen."
So, planting himself in the middle of
the highway, the valiant knight called
out: "Diabolical and monstrous race!
Kither immediately release the high
born Princess whom you are carrying
iw.iv or prepare for instant death:"
"Sir." said one of the monks,
mazed at the sight of the Don, "we
are monks of the Order of St. Benedict,
traveling on our own business, and en
tirely Ignorant of any Princess."
"No fair speeches with me." shout
ed the Don; and. clapping spurs to
Rozlnante. he ran at the foremost
monk with such fury that had not the
N
holy man slipped quickly to the ground
be must have been killed.
The second monk, seeing the fate
of his brother, gave spur to his mule
and fled across the plain.
Seeing the fallen monk on the
ground, Sancho ran up and began to
disrobe him. To two lackeys who came
up and asked what he was about,
Panza replied that the monk's clothes
were lawful spoils of war, having been
won in combat by his master, the cel
ebrated knight, Don Quixote de la
Mancha.
The lackeys being deficient in a
sense of humor and never having
heard of Asnadls of Gaul, much less
of Don Quixote, threw Sancho to the
ground and. besides not leaving him a
hair In his beard; soundly belabored
and kicked him.
Meantime Don Quixote rode up to
the coach and announcing himself as
a "knight errant and adventurer, cap
tive to the peerless and beauteous
Dulclnea del Toboso," requested the
lady to return to Toboso and, present
ing herself before Dulclnea, recount
what he had done to obtain her liberty.
The lady was too astonished at the
gaunt apparition and the fantastic
speech to reply, but one of her BIs
caine squires rode up and told the Don
to begone, or he would have his life.
"If thou wert a gentleman," retorted
the knight. "I would chastise thee."
"What, I no gentleman?" cried the
Biscalner. "if thou wilt throw away
thy lance and draw thy sword, thou
shalt see how soon the cat will get Into
the water; Biscalner by land, gentle
man by sea! Gentleman for the devil.
And thou llest!"
Snatching a cushion from- the coach
to serve as a buckler, the Biscalner
made for the Don who, rising in his
stirrups and grasping his sword in
both hands, let drive such a blow
at the squire's head as must have
cleft it had not the cushion interposed.
As it was, the fiery Blscainer thought
a mountain had fallen upon him and
slipped to the ground while the terri
fied lady called out that if he would
only go away she would perform any
thing he commanded.
Don Quixote at these words rode off.
with Sancho at his heels, and in a
neighboring wood the, squire spread
for his master and himself a bountiful
repast, for which he had found the
materials in the wallet of the fallen
monk, and which he had hung onto in
spite of his drubbing. They put up at
an Inn that night which the Don de
clared was a castle and where many
scurvy tricks were played upon them,
not the least of which was tossing;
Sancho In a blanket because he had no
money to pay the reckoning.
"If. I live long I shall see much," said
Sancho when he rejoined his master,
"but as it is now reaping time, sup
pose we return to our village and not
go any more rambling out of the fry
ing pan into the fire."
"Patience and shuffle the cards,
Sancho," replied the knight; and just
at that moment they saw in the road
two flocks of sheep coming from op
posite directions.
"Hah!" cried the Don. "Hearest
thou the neighing of steeds and the
blare of trumpets?" And before San
cho could stop him he charged Irjto te
midst of the two flocks, which had
now come together, and with his lance
caused slaughter among the mutton.
The infuriated shepherds assaulted
him with stones, knocking out some
of his teeth and knocking in some of
his ribs, and then, fearing they had
killed him, made off with their flocks
as speedily as they might. "Lord save
us!" cried Sancho as he assisted the
fallen master to his feet. "Your
Worship has left on this lower side
only two grinders and on the upper
not a one."
It was ever thus with all who pro
fessed t"he strict order of chivalry." re
plied Don Qulzote as he painfully
mounted his isteed. As they passed
along at a snail's pace, for even the
Don's ardor was somewhat dampened
by his misadventure, darkness fell and
they saw approaching over the plain a
great number of lights. As the lights
came nearer they saw that they were
borne by about twenty persons clothed
in white, walking in front of a litter
covered with black. The litter was fol
lowed by six persons clothed in black
and mounted upon mules. Those robed
in white were muttering to themselves
In a low and plaintive tone. Forget
ting his wounds in the prospect of an
adventure, Don Quixote rode in front
of the procession and commanded the
people to halt and give an account of
themselves.
"We are In haste." answered one of
the procession, "and the inn is a great
way off. We have not time to parley."
One of the others began to revile
the knight and bade him stand out of
the way. Whereupon Don Quixote,
couching his lance, rode Into them, and
the white-robed figures. being un
armed and peaceable withal, went run
ning over the plain with their lighted
torches, like so many maskers on a
carnival night.
The mourners, being encumbered
with their trappings of woe, could not
come to the assistance of their fellows,
and so the Don had an easy victory,
the more easy that they all thought him
some devil sent to carry off the dead
body they were escorting. One of the
mourners had fallen and lay pinned un
der his mule. Him Don Qutxote cour
teously raised up and was then in
formed of the fact that he had at
tacked a funeral procession.
"Who killed the man?" ashed the Don.
"He died of a pestilential fever," re
plied the mourner.
"Well, since that Is so, I am saved
the trouble of avenging his death,"
said the Don thankfully. "'When
Heaven kills a man all that Is ex
pected of us Is patience and a slight
shrug."
As the mourner was going away.
Sancho called out to him to tell his
companions that they had been van
quished by Don Quixote de la Mancha,
the Knight of the Sorrowful Figure.
"Why didst thou call me Knight of
the Sorrowful Figure?" asked the
Don.
"Because." replied Sancho. "I think
thou art the most sorrowful figure I
ever saw. Perhaps It Is owing to the
loss of the teeth."
"Not at all. not at all," replied Don
Quixote, "it was an inspiration. Other
knights-errant were called, one the
Knight of the Unicom, another of the
Rose, another of Damsels, and so on.
Henceforth I will be known aa the
THE SU"DAT
COPYRIGHT. 1907. BY
'
Iook Yowrz. TkiMP Sanwo. ..
Knight of the Sorrowful Figure. I will
have the most sorrowful figure that
ever was, painted on my shield."
"No need to do that," returned
Sancho; "your worship has only to
Bhow your own figure."
The Don wanted to examine the lit
ter, for which the mourners had not
yet returned, but Sancho said: "No!
Hunger presses; the ass is laden and
the mountain is near; to the grave
with the dead, the living to bread. Let
us march." And march they did.
Reaching a retired valley they dis
mounted and Sancho spread a feast for
himself and his master. The eccle
Biasts who were escorting the dead
body had dropped their wallets in their
flight wallets well stocked with food
and the provident Sancho had
gathered them up and loaded them
upon Dapple. But having neither
water nor wine to quench their thirst,
when they had eaten they. went on a
little further through the wood In
search of a stream. They had -not pro
ceeded far when they heard a great
rushing of water, but at the same time
another fearful sound, a din of Irons
and rattling chains and mighty strokes
delivered in regular time and measure.
Don Quixote ran to his steed and
mounting In haste was for at once
charging upon this new peril, but poor
Rozlnante refused to move, even at the
prick of the knight's spur.
"Verily, the steed is enchanted,"
cried the Don; but the fact was that
Sancho, fearing to have his master
rush off toward the horrible sounds,
had secretly tied together the animal's
hind legs so that she could not budge a
step. Don Quixote, however, refused
to dismount, and sat on horseback un
til day began to break, when, Sancho
having secretly unhobbled Rozlnante,
the knight, followed at a safe distance
by his squire, rode through the chest
nut wood in the direction of the fear
ful clamor.
U-pon doubling a point the true and un
doubted cause of the noise which had held
them all night in such suspense appeared
plain. It was simply a little fulling mill,
the six hammers of which were busily at
work. Sancho burst into a laugh, which
so angered his master that he discharged
a blow at him with his lance that, had it
lighted upon Sancho's head instead of
upon his shoulders, Don Quixote would
have at once discharged himself of his
squire's wages unless it had been to his
heirs.
This stopped Sancho's Ill-timed mirth,
and his master forgiving him, the two
took to the road again. They had not
Journeyed far when the Don discovered
a man advancing on horseback. He had
upon his head something that glittered as
If it had been gold.
"When one door is shut, another is
opened," said Don Quixote.
"If we were disappointed of an adven
ture at the fulling mills, here is another
open to us. A man approaches wearing
Mambrino's helmet. Retire and leave me
to deal with him."
"I will retire fast enough," replied San
cho. "but I pray this may not be an
other fulling mill adventure."
"Base knave!" cried the knight. "I com
mand thee never to even think again of
fulling mills. If you do. I will mill your
soul for you." And putting spurs to Ro
zlnante, he went charging upon a peace
ful barber who was proceeding on his
business from one village to another and
had placed his brass basin on his head
to save his cap from the rain which was
eginning to fall.
"Defend thyself, caitiff!" cried Don
Quixote as he neared the barber. The
man, affrighted at the strange apparition,
slid from his ass to the ground and went
scampering over the plain, nimbler than
a roebuck, leaving his basin behind
"Doubtless the pagan for whom this
helmet was originally forged had a pro
digious head," said the Don to Sancho,
who now came up. "What are you laugh
ing at, sirrah?"
"I was laughing." replied Sancho, "to
think how much like a barber's basin
Mambrino's helmet looks."
"So it may. to you," retorted the
knight, "but to me, who knows what it
really is. its looks are of no importance."
Don Quixote placed the basin on his
head and held it there by passing a strap
over it and under his chin, so that his
appearance was more remarkable even
than before. The errant knight then
raised bis eyes and saw approaching in
the same road about a dozen men strung
out like beads, held by the neck in a
great iron chain and all handcuffed. With
them were two men on horseback armed
OKEG0IA', PORTLAND.
IRVING KING. ALL RIGHT. REJERVEb
with firelocks. , and two men on foot
armed with pikes and swords. As soon
as Sancho saw them he exclaimed: "Here
come some criminals condemned to the
galleys."
"Then these men are carried olT against
their will," said the Don. "Here is where
my office comes in."
"I would have speech with these men,"
said Don Quixote, courteously riding up
to the guards. "You may ask a few
questions," was the reply, "but their com
mitments are all regualr and we have
little time."
"What are you sent to the galleys for?"
asked the knight of a reckless-looking
young fellow. "For being in love," re
plied the youth with a grin. "Ah," sighed
the Don. 'if men were sent to the galleys
for being in love. I long since had been
there myself." "Yes," said the youth, "I
fell in love with a basket of linen and
made off with it."
Don Quixote now turned to question
one Gines de Passamonte. the most no
torious rogue in Aragon, but the guard
cried out:
"Enough of this fooling. Adjust your
basin upon your head and go your way
In peace, senor. Do not go feeling for
three legs on a cat."
"You are a cat and a rat and a rascal
to boot!" cried Don Quixote, and at
tacked the guard so suddenly that he
threw him to the ground much wound
ed by a thru3t of his lance. The other
guards, recovering from their surprise,
rushed toward the knight, and doubt
less it would have gone hard with him
had not the galley slaves taken ad-,
vantage of the tumult to break the
chain by which they were linked to
gether. Sancho assisted Gines de Pas
samonte to free himself, and that des
perate character seized the firelock of
the overthrown guard. The others
armed themselves with stones, and the
guards were soon put to flight. The
convicts gathered around Don Quixote
to know his pleasure, for they thought
he was a bandit and had come to their
rescue in "order that they might Join
his band. But when the Don in stately
words commanded them to go to the
city of Toboso and present themselves
before the peerless Dulclnea, they
laughed at him. Then the knight, wax
ing wrathful and threatening, they
knocked him from his horse with
stones, stripped him of the jacket he
wore over his armor, and would have
taken his trousero, too, had not the
greaves hindered them. As for Mam
brino's helmet, they tore it from his
head and broke it to pieces. Then they
tooK Sancho's cloak and made off.
"Sancho," said Don Quixote solemnly
as he sat up and rubbed his bruises, "I
have always heard it said that to do
good to the vulgar is to throw water
Into the sea"
"As I am a Turk." replied Sancho,
"what your worship must think of now
Is to get out of this scrape. The guards
will give the alarm and we shall be
pursued and arrested by the Holy
Brotherhood, who care no more for
knights-errant than for so many fleas.
Let us get into these mountains while
we -yet can."
The Don, protesting that It was in
order to do penance by fasting and by
scourging himself for love of his lady
and not for fear of the law that he
went, allowed Sancho to lead him into
a wild and remote part of the Sierra
Morena, where, the next day. stripping
himself of most of his clothing, he be
gan to live his hermit's life according
to the manner he had read of in books
of chivalry wherein knights are wont
upon occasion to retire from the world
to meditate upon their love affairs.
Sancho was commanded to repair to
Toboso, and. carrying his adoration to
Dulclnea. bring him back word from
the peerless princess. In a ravine
Sancho found a dead mule and a port
manteau, and in the portmanteau 100
golden crowns. They were the prop
erty of a young man whose love had
been abducted by a powerful noble and
who had retired In a half-mad condi
tion to live amid these same wilds. But
Sancho. not knowing this. and. in truth,
not caring much, as he considered the
find as a reward of chivalry, appropri
ated the money and went on his mis
sion. He had not proceeded far when he
met Master Nicholas, the barber, and
the curate who had left their village
to go in search of their demented
friend. Learning from Sancho how
matters stood, they resolved on a strat
agem to get Don Quixote home again.
Disguising themselves and pretending
'JUNE" 23. 1907.
or
X
that they were emissaries from a Prin
cess Micomicon, who begged the valor
of the illustrious Don Quixote to come
to her assistance, they lured the knight
from his penance and as far home as
the inn at which he and iancho had
once lodged and suffered.
Then, being unable to keep up the joke
longer, they bound the Don hand and
foot while he slept, and placing him in a
hastily constructed cage on a cart they
carrled him within a day's Journey of his
village. Then, as he promised not to give
them the slip, they let him out. But
scarcely had Don Quixote been released
from his cage than he saw a procession
come forth on the plain to pray for rain.
He Immediately charged it for a hostile
army, and got so well beaten by the
peasants for his pains that his friends
finally took him to his house and put
him to bed, where he lay for a couple of
weeks.
The curate and the barber enlisted in
their cause, which was the keeping of
Don Quixote at home, one Sampson Car
rasco. a young bachelor of arts, just re
turned from his university. Seeing that
the Don was determined to take to the
road again, the bachelor advised that
they should not try to hinder him by
force, as he had a stratagem which he
thought would work mightily well. As
soon as Don Quixote was able to lift
lance again he departed, taking Sancho
along with him. In search of new adven
tures. The 100 golden crowns which San
cho had brought back Induced his wife
to consent to his second departure, but
with some misgivings as to the greatness
of being an island governor which he
prated about.
"The best sauce in the world.' said
she. "is hunger: and as the poor are
never without that they eat with relish;
but If you should chance to get an island
remember your family."
"If I do not get an island I will die in
the attempt," said Sancho, valiantly.
"Nay," replied his wife, "let the hen
live, though it be with the pip."
"Sancho I was born and Sancho I
shall die,"' returned the squire, "but for
all that, if an Island comes In my way I
shall take it; for. as the saying is, 'When
they offer you a heifer be ready with a
rope." and 'When Fortune knocks, make
haste to let her in.' "
Don Quixote and Sancho had -rjot pro
ceeded far on their Journey when they
encountered a mounted man in armor.
He had over his armor a coat which
shone with many little pieces of glass
and a plume waved over his closed hel
met. The stranger announced himself as
the Knight of the Mirrors and called
upon Don Quixote to acknowledge the
peerless Casildea de Vandalia as the
most beautiful and most virtuous prin
cess in the world. He also vaunted him
self that he had overthrown in combat
that redoubtable knight, Don Quixote de
la Mancha.
The Don gave the stranger the lis upon
both propositions and demanded to fight
It out immediately. This the other agreed
to on condition that the vanquished
should remain at the discretion of his
conqueror.
As the two knights rode against each
other, he of the mirrors seemed greatly
perplexed what to do with his lance, to
the handling of which he was evidently
unaccustomed. His horse, also, was a
sorry beast, more dejected if possible
than Rozinante. The result was that Don
Quixote sent his adversary tumbling over
his horse's crupper.
As the Knight of the Mirrors lay like
one dead, the Don dismounted and un
laced his adversary's helmet to see how
badly he might be wounded- Vast was
the Don's astonishment to see in the
face of the fallen knight the very effigy
and semblance of the bachelor, Sampson
Carrasco.
"See what wicked enchanters have
done!" cried Don Quixote. "They have
changed this knight Into the semblance
of my young friend."
By this time the Knight of the Mirrors
began to recover his senses, upon which
the Don. placing the point of his sword
to the throat of his fallen foe, said in a
stern voice:
"You are a dead man. Sir ICnight, if
you do not at once acknowledge that the
peerless Princess Dulcinea del Toboso ex
cels In beauty your Casildea de Vandalia.
You are enchanted into the semblance of
a friend of mine, but that shall not avail
you."
The bachelor, for he indeed it was.
agreed to all that the Don demanded,
even promising to present himself imme
diately before Dulclnea. to be disposed as
she might direct. The young man had
thought It would be an easy muter to
overthro the Don. and had proposed
to make him promise to go home and re
frain from knight errantry for two years,
by the end of which time he thought a
cure might have been effected.
Sancho praised his master's prowess
and remarked to the stranger knight,
whose strong resemblance to the bache
lor Carrasco he could not entirely con
vince himself was due to enchantment:
"Other folks' burdens break the ass'
back. He who gives up his own wits to
recover those of another searcheth after
that which, when found, may chance to
hit him in the teeth. Those who go for
wool are like to come back shorn."
After the adventure with the Knight of
the Mirrors, Don Quixote and his squire
Journey for many days, meeting now
and then with slight adventures, until one
morning, emerging from a forest, they
saw a stately train of ladies and gentle
men with their attendants indulging in
the sport of hawking.
The chief of the party proved to be a
certain Duke and his Duchess, and as
both had heard of the former doing of
Don Quixote, an account which had been
published Just after his return from his
second sally, they greeted the knight with
great pleasure and resolved to divert
themselves at his expense. Taking blm to
the castle they brought to mind all the
customs of chivalry which they could re
member from their reading, and repro
duced as near as they might a state of
affairs with distressed damsels, jousts
and love-making such a castle and such
a company as is described in the old ro
mances that had turned the good knight's
head.
Sancho conceived this to be a good time
to ask for his island, and the Duke, after
arranging matters with his steward, sent
the squire off in state to a town of his.
where for a while he was to be allowed
to play Governor.
Sancho objected at first that his island
was not surrounded by water, but the
duke assured him that many islands were
not. Don Quixote dispatched his squire
with a first-class set of maxims such as
"Take virtue for thy rule of life, for blood
is inherited, but virtue is common proper
ty and may be acquired by all. Every one
Is the son of his own work. Deem it more
meritorious to be a humble man than a
lofty sinner. Let the tears of the poor
find more compassion, but not more Jus
tice from thee than the applications of
the wealthy. If the cause of thine enemy
come before thee, forget thy injuries and
think only of the merits of the case. Re
vile not with words him thou has to cor
rect with deeds. If perchance the scales
of Justice be not evenly balanced let the
cause be Imputed to pity and not to gold.
Let not private affection blind thee in an
other man's cause. Be not under the do
minion of thine own will; it is the vice of
the Ignorant, who vainly presume -on their
own understanding."
The Duke and his Duchess were aston
ished at these words of wisdom and mar
veled that a man should be so sane on
other subjects and so mad on that of
chivalry.
Sancho's "island" of Baratarla proved
to be anything but what his fancy had
painted it. He was a great glutton, and
when he sat down to a full-laden board
his court physician stood by, and when a
dish was served of aa especially tempting
nature touched it with a wand and It was
whisked away. "Your lordship's food
must be carefully watched," said the phy
sician, "that you may eat nothing to harm
you."
"Body o' me!" cried Sancho when they'
had thus reduced his fare to bread and
water. "Give me something to eat or
take back my island, for a government
that will not give a man food is not worth
a hill of beans."
For two days and nights they kept
Sancho busy hearing causes, upon which
he delivered many shrewd decisions, half
starved all the time.
Then a letter from the Duke warned
HEARING
Our Feathered Brethren Are
HENRY OLDYS, of the United States
Biological Survey, spoke at the art
gallery on "Melody in Bird Songs," and
gave some truly remarkable and ex
quisite examples of it. He Imitated
"our brothers in music," as he called
them, not only in their music, but in
some of the tricks of attitude assumed,
a very funny bit, ludicrously true, be-'
ing an example of a chat, a yellow
breast, which, if heard in the thicket,
would be supposed to be the voice
of several birds. But Mr. Oldys
saw him and gave his motions in talking,
scolding, laughing, and singing. The
bird evidently had a good time in his
solitary enjoyment, and the audience had
a hearty laugh, as they did also at the
animated description of some of the dan
cing birds of the Southern continent, one
of which, a great bird. If bowed to by
a person, will bow in return, just as it
does in its dances.
It Is now 14 years since Mr. Oldys first
took up this study, and most of his ex
amples had been taken from individ
uals found in a radius of about two
miles. He hoped that In the interest of
science as well as pleasure some of those
present would make similar studies in
their own neighborhoods. He divided
birds roughly Into two groups the non
musical and the musical, the crow and
the crow-blackbird being taken as ex
amples of the first. Then there is a sub
group that is a mixture of the two. of
which the song sparrow, who has some
notes like a broken string on a piano,
which he Is fond of repeating, is an ex
ample. It was thought that the individ
uality of various members of the same
species is not well understood. Some
times birds will sing off the key just as
human beings or violins will sometimes
do. But measured by our musical stan
dard their music was declared to be mu
sical, and found to be so as Mr. Oldys
gave it.
He whistled the birds songs in the
high, clear notes of a bird, not merely
in imitation of the melody, but placed the
phrases where they belong In alt where
few whistlers could put them. And this
was done with pure, soft tone, no forcing
and consequent loss of effect. One had
but to shut one's eyes to hear the real
bird. The notes of the white-throated
sparrow, heard here sometimes, when It
visits for a while among the English
sparrows; the field sparrow whose mel
ody, however, he had to put a trifle dif
ferent, as the bird sings not quite In
accordance with our scale. the song
sparrow, and the grasshopper sparrow
were grouped. The particular song spar
him that a hostile army was about to at
tack the "island," and he expected the
Governor to be prepared. That night
there was a great tumult In the town,
and attendants rushing into Sancho's
apartment told him to arm and lead forth
his troops, as the enemy had already won
the gates. Scared out of his wits. Sancho
Allowed them to bind him between two
old targets and then, attempting to move,
fell down where the others in their mad
cap hilarity trampled over him until they
were satisfied with the Joke.
Early the next morning Sancho, put
ting on the clothes which he wore as a
squire and mounting Dapple, rode forth
Into the market place and took leave of
his subjects.
"St. Peter is well at Rome," said he,
"and nothing becomes a man so well as
the employment he was born for. Every
sheep with its like. Stretch not your feet
beyond your sheet. Tell the Duke I go
away as poor as I came, which is more
than most Governors can say."
As Sancho neared- the Duke's castle
whom should he see but his master out
taking a morning ride on Rozlnante.
After greetings the two told each other
what liad befallen them since their
separation. They had wandered far
into a wood, when they saw approach
ing along the road a knight armed cap-a-pie.
The stranger announced himself as
the Knight of the White Moon looking
for fight with Don Quixote.
"How. caitiff and recreant knight?"
cried the Don. and at it they went. But
the Knight of the White Moon, being
well mounted and handling his lance
witn great skill, managed to unhorse
the Don without hurting him except in
his pride. Placing his sword at the
throat of his fallen adversary, the
stranger knight demanded that the Don
yield himself according to the rules of
chivalry and promise to perform what
ever might be demanded of him
AVIth a rueful face Don Quixote yielded
himself. The condition imposed upon him
was that he return to his home and give
up knight-errantry for two years.
Then the Knight of the White Moon
rode off and when he took off his trap
pings in a neighboring inn disclosed the
features of the bachelor. Sampson Car
rasco. who, mortified at his first failure
to overthrow the Don. had been practic
ing with the handling of steeds and the
use of the lance until he felt able to set
out for a second trial.
Sorrowfully Don Quixote went on his
homeward way. Sancho was not In a
hurry to meet his wife again and desired
to tarry by the way and sleep much of
the time. Don Quixote upbraided his
squire for his somnolent tendency, but
Sancho replied: "Blessings light upon the
man who first Invented sleep. It covers
a man all over, body and mind, like a
cloak. It Is meat to the hungry, drink to
the thirsty, heat to the cold. It Is the
coin which can purchase all things; the
balance that equals the shepherd with the
King, the fool with the wise man."
"I never heard thee talk so eloquently
before," said the Don, "which proves the
truth of the saying 'not with whom thou
are bred but with whom thou are fed.' "
On arriving at his home, Don Quixote
fell sick of fever and, worn out by his
fastings and adventures, sank rapidly to
ward the grave. But before he died his
brain cleared and he said to his friends:
"Give me joy. good gentlemen, that I am
no longer Don Quixote de la Mancha, but -Alonzo
Quixano, an utter enemy of
Amadis of Gaul and all his generation.
Let my fate be a warning to all who be
fuddle their brains with those lying ro
mances of chivalry."
Sancho returned to his farm work and
talked to his last hour of the days when
he was a governor; while Sampson Car
rasco wrote the good knight's epitaph.
BIRD MUSIC
Sometimes Off Key, Like Violins.
row taken was thought to be a pupil of
Mozart. Mr. Oldys supplied missing
phrases, put the melody In a lower key,
and it was found to be one that would
have passed anywhere for some of that
master's writing. The grasshopper spar
row Is to be commiserated, for he has a
soul for music, but no ability to express
it. Mr. Oldys showed how the little fel
low takes the attitude of a grand opera
tenor and then sings an explosive "pick-beck-zlzz-z
!"
Wrens, kinglets (ruby crown), titmice,
chickadees and vireos were imitated and
Interesting incidents told about each, and
then meadow larks were taken up. One
refrain sung by these birds Is Just that of
"Flnlcula." These birds sing duets and
trios, an incident being relaied and illus
trated where, on the advent of a new
comer, a bird changed from the key of B
flat. In which it had been singing, to that
of E flat. In which the newcomer had
sung while at a distance. The three birds
ang. twice around, a combination of re
lated phrases In a sweet trio. Mr. Oldys'
representation of the songs of wood
thrush and wood pewee was beautiful.
The first took a melody of four phrases,
returning to the keynote at the close in
a graceful arpeggio, and two wood
pewees had a duet in semi-canon form.
Here musical Intelligence was shown in
the fact that when one singer stopped at
the close of a verse, the first repeated
the opening phrase five times, waiting
for the answer after esch, and then re
newed her song in the original time.
Brooklyn, N. Y.. Eagle.
Restful Employment.
Chicago Kewa.
The dignity of honest toil
Is what I ever will maintain.
I love the tiller of the soil.
The harvester of golden grain.
X much approve the artisan
Who slaves from dawn till even mirk.
'Most any honest worktngman.
I like to stand and see him work.
The chauffeur with his monkey wrench.
The workmen who the asphalt lay.
The laborer who digs the trench.
The painter with his colors gay.
The carpenter w-tao rips ft plank
For hours In blacksmith ihons I've
stood -The
scissors grinder ax his crank
To see them hustle does me good.
Some like to watch a bftsebftll game.
And' some prefer to see ft show.
Sucii sights aa those to me are tame;
I would not waste my leisure so.
I know that many men wxmld call
It very small amusement, yet
I think the flnest thing of all
la watching other fellows sweat.