The Magicians Show Box and Other Stories | Page 4

"Hollow, I declare! Nothing but a wooden horse, after all, and
goes by machinery. I wonder how long he is wound up to go, and
whether I shall ever get off the dreadful nightmare's back. What a fool I
was to change my good cantering horse for such a machine as this! But
I must endure it now I am in for it."
Day after day they trotted on, through strange countries, among
unknown people and animals; but the horse never noticed them, nor
they the horse. Gaspar wished to jump off and let the great creature go;
but it was so high, and went on so steadily, that he could not get a
chance. At last they passed through a gate in a high wall, which he
thought must be the Chinese Wall, and a pagoda in the distance soon
convinced him that he was right.
"I shall at least see peaked shoes and mandarins, and that is some
satisfaction," he thought, and rode on, looking about him with great
curiosity, until he came to a palace all gilding and porcelain. Here the
horse came to a stand, as if he had been wound up to go so far and no
farther.
"This I know must be the emperor's palace, and that must be the very

gentleman himself, looking out of the window," said Gaspar. "How
fortunate that uncle Gammon taught me Chinese!" He bowed and
addressed the emperor, who was quite surprised to see such a very
small foreign boy on such a very large horse, speaking his language so
correctly. He came down to examine the horse, and when he found it
went by machinery instead of being alive, expressed the greatest delight,
saying it was just the kind of horse he had always desired, and if
Gaspar would give it to him, he should be made one of his chief
mandarins. Gaspar replied that his greatest desire was to be a mandarin;
so he alighted in the most dignified manner, and entering the palace,
was presented with layers of richly embroidered robes, which reached
to his feet, and just allowed the peaks of his shoes to peep out. Then he
was introduced to a large circle of mandarins who stood round,
incessantly bowing to one another. He began to bow too, as if he had
done nothing else all his life, and when dinner was served, managed his
chop-sticks most dexterously, and smoked as if smoking had been his
only vocation. In short, he ate and bobbed, and slept and woke, in the
most approved manner.
Now he had attained the summit of his wishes. Every thing was entirely
Chinese,--jars, mats, sweetmeats, dresses, bobbing, and stupidity. Rank,
luxury, grandeur he called it, and for a while flattered himself that he
was immersed in perfect happiness; but, somehow,--he could not tell
what it was; perhaps he was not quite old enough,--but somehow he did
become a little weary of being a mandarin. The palace was deliciously
perfumed, but he longed for a puff of fresh wind. Nothing could be
richer than their dresses, but the embroidery was rather heavy. Nothing
could be profounder than their politeness, but it would have been a
relief to have given some boy a good snowballing. Nothing could be
serener than their silence, but he would gladly have given any body
three cheers for nothing.
He began to make plans for escape from this palace of his desires,
when one morning, just as one venerable mandarin was saying to
another, in their usual edifying style of conversation, "Pelican of the
Morning, before the magic charm of thy lofty countenance I am
spell-bound, like an albatross bewildered amid the flapping sails of a
mighty--" down burst the door with a crash, and a lion rushed roaring in
among them. What a scrambling there was of the long-flowered dresses!

What a tumbling, a flying, a groaning, a screaming! Never before were
such confusion and fear in an assembly of bobbing mandarins. But
Gaspar felt his breast swell with courage. Throwing off his long robes,
he sprang upon the lion, and struggled fiercely with him; but the
powerful creature would soon have laid him low if he had not suddenly
remembered the dagger, sharpened in his conflict with the little gray
man. Drawing it from the belt in which he always wore it, beneath his
embroidered robe, he plunged it into the lion's throat, and victory was
won. He did not wait for the dispersed mandarins to return; but
throwing one of the richest dresses over his shoulder, as Hercules wore
the lion's skin, he walked off, taking his way straight to the gate in the
wall, for he had had quite enough of China and the Chinese empire.
Now began glad days for him--roaming, like a