Fables | Page 7

cried the young man, "and what then can be the use of
it?"
"Why," said the physician, "I perceive I must explain to you the nature
of the action of my paint. It does not exactly prevent sin; it extenuates
instead the painful consequences. It is not so much for this world, as for
the next; it is not against life; in short, it is against death that I have
fitted you out. And when you come to die, you will give me news of
my paint."
"Oh!" cried the young man, "I had not understood that, and it seems a
little disappointing. But there is no doubt all is for the best: and in the
meanwhile, I shall be obliged if you will help me to undo the evil I
have brought on innocent persons."
"That is none of my business," said the physician; "but if you will go
round the corner to the police office, I feel sure it will afford you relief
to give yourself up."
Six weeks later, the physician was called to the town gaol.
"What is the meaning of this?" cried the young man. "Here am I
literally crusted with your paint; and I have broken my leg, and
committed all the crimes in the calendar, and must be hanged to-
morrow; and am in the meanwhile in a fear so extreme that I lack
words to picture it."
"Dear me," said the physician. "This is really amazing. Well, well;
perhaps, if you had not been painted, you would have been more
frightened still."

VIII. - THE HOUSE OF ELD.
So soon as the child began to speak, the gyve was riveted; and the boys

and girls limped about their play like convicts. Doubtless it was more
pitiable to see and more painful to bear in youth; but even the grown
folk, besides being very unhandy on their feet, were often sick with
ulcers.
About the time when Jack was ten years old, many strangers began to
journey through that country. These he beheld going lightly by on the
long roads, and the thing amazed him. "I wonder how it comes," he
asked, "that all these strangers are so quick afoot, and we must drag
about our fetter?"
"My dear boy," said his uncle, the catechist, "do not complain about
your fetter, for it is the only thing that makes life worth living. None
are happy, none are good, none are respectable, that are not gyved like
us. And I must tell you, besides, it is very dangerous talk. If you
grumble of your iron, you will have no luck; if ever you take it off, you
will be instantly smitten by a thunderbolt."
"Are there no thunderbolts for these strangers?" asked Jack.
"Jupiter is longsuffering to the benighted," returned the catechist.
"Upon my word, I could wish I had been less fortunate," said Jack. "For
if I had been born benighted, I might now be going free; and it cannot
be denied the iron is inconvenient, and the ulcer hurts."
"Ah!" cried his uncle, "do not envy the heathen! Theirs is a sad lot! Ah,
poor souls, if they but knew the joys of being fettered! Poor souls, my
heart yearns for them. But the truth is they are vile, odious, insolent,
ill-conditioned, stinking brutes, not truly human - for what is a man
without a fetter? - and you cannot be too particular not to touch or
speak with them."
After this talk, the child would never pass one of the unfettered on the
road but what he spat at him and called him names, which was the
practice of the children in that part.
It chanced one day, when he was fifteen, he went into the woods, and
the ulcer pained him. It was a fair day, with a blue sky; all the birds
were singing; but Jack nursed his foot. Presently, another song began; it
sounded like the singing of a person, only far more gay; at the same
time there was a beating on the earth. Jack put aside the leaves; and
there was a lad of his own village, leaping, and dancing and singing to
himself in a green dell; and on the grass beside him lay the dancer's
iron.

"Oh!" cried Jack, "you have your fetter off!"
"For God's sake, don't tell your uncle!" cried the lad.
"If you fear my uncle," returned Jack "why do you not fear the
thunderbolt"?
"That is only an old wives' tale," said the other. "It is only told to
children. Scores of us come here among the woods and dance for nights
together, and are none the worse."
This put Jack in a thousand new thoughts. He was a grave lad; he had
no mind to dance himself; he wore his