Songs for October

The Horseman

Tom the Chimney-Sweep

Once upon a time there was a little chimney-sweep named Tom. He lived in a great town in the north country, where there were plenty of chimneys to sweep. Tom could not read nor write, and did not care to do either. He never washed himself, for there was no water where he lived. He cried half his time and laughed the other half. He cried when he had to climb the dark chimneys and got the soot into his eyes, which he did every day in the week. He cried when his master beat him, which he did every day in the week. He cried when he had not enough to eat, which happened every day in the week. And he laughed the other half of the day, when he was tossing pennies with the boys, or playing leap-frog over the posts, or rolling stones at horses as they trotted by.

One day a smart little groom rode into the court where Tom lived. He wanted Mr. Grimes to come the next morning to his master's house, for the chimneys needed sweeping.

Now, Mr. Grimes was Tom's master, so he and Tom set out early next morning. Grimes rode the donkey in front, while Tom and the brushes walked behind.

They passed through the village and through the turnpike, and then they were out in the real country on the black dusty road.

On they went. Tom longed to get over the gate and pick buttercups and look for birds' nests; but Grimes was a man of business and would not hear of that.

Soon they came up to a poor Irishwoman, with a bundle on her back. She had a gray shawl over her head and she wore a red petticoat. She had neither shoes nor stockings, and limped along as if she were tired. She was a tall, handsome woman, with bright gray eyes and heavy black hair hanging about her cheeks. She walked beside Tom and talked to him, and asked him where he lived and what he knew and all about himself.

Then Tom asked her where she lived, and she said far away by the sea. He asked her about the sea, and she told him how it rolled and roared over the rocks in winter nights and how it lay still in bright summer days for the children to bathe and play in. Tom longed to go to the sea and to bathe in it.

At last at the bottom of a hill they came to a stream of clear water. Tom ran down to the stream and began washing his face. "Come along," said Grimes. "What do you want with washing yourself?"

"Those that wish to be clean, clean they will be, and those that wish to be foul, foul they will be," said the Irishwoman. "You will see me again." And she turned away.

Tom rushed after her, shouting, "Come back!" But when he got into the meadow the woman was not there.

When Grimes and Tom had gone three miles and more they came to a long avenue of trees. Tom had never seen such great trees, and as he looked up he thought that the blue sky rested on their heads. When they came to the grand old house, Tom wondered how many chimneys were in it.

The housekeeper met them and gave the orders. Grimes listened and said every now and then under his voice, "Mind that, you little beggar." Then the housekeeper turned them into a grand room, all covered with sheets and brown paper. She bade them begin and, after a whimper or two and a kick from his master, into the grate Tom went, and up the chimney.

How many chimneys he swept I cannot say, but he swept so many that he got very tired and lost his way in them. He came down the wrong chimney and found himself standing on a rug in a strange room.

Tom looked about. He thought the room was very pretty. It was all in white. There were white window-curtains, white bed-curtains, white furniture and white walls, with a little pink here and there. The carpet was gay with little flowers and the wall was hung with pictures.

The next thing he saw was a washstand, with soap, brushes and towels, and a large bath tub full of clean water. "She must be a very dirty lady," thought Tom, "to need so much water." Then he looked toward the bed and there he saw the lady and he held his breath.

Under the snow-white cover, upon the snow-white pillow, lay the most beautiful little girl Tom had ever seen. He looked at her pretty skin and golden hair, and wondered whether she was a real person or one of the wax dolls he had seen in the shops. When he saw her breathe he made up his mind that she was alive, and he stood staring at her as if she had been an angel.

"She cannot be dirty. She never could have been dirty," thought Tom to himself. Then he thought, "Are all people like that when they are washed?" He looked at his own wrist and tried to rub the soot off and wondered whether it would come off.

He looked around and saw, standing close to him, a little black ragged boy. "What are you doing here?" he cried. Then he saw that it was himself in a great mirror.

So Tom, for the first time in his life, found out that he was dirty. He burst into tears and turned to go up the chimney again and hide, but he upset the fender and threw the fire irons down with a noise as of ten thousand tin kettles tied to ten thousand dogs' tails.

Up jumped the little white lady in her bed and screamed. The old nurse rushed in from the next room and, seeing Tom, thought that he had come to rob. She dashed at him and caught him by the jacket, but she did not hold him. He doubled under the good woman's arm and was out of the window in a moment.

The gardener saw him and gave chase to poor Tom. The dairymaid heard the noise and she jumped up and gave chase. Grimes upset the soot sack and he ran out and gave chase. The plowman left his horses and gave chase. The Irishwoman saw Tom and she gave chase, too.

Tom made for the woods. But the boughs laid hold of his legs and arms, poked him in the face and stomach and made him shut his eyes tight. "I must get out of this," thought Tom, "or they will catch me."

Suddenly he ran his head against a wall. Up he went and over that like a squirrel. There Tom was, out on the great moor. He ran along the wall for nearly half a mile.

The gardener and the plowman and the dairymaid went on half a mile the other way, inside the wall. But the Irishwoman had watched which way Tom went. So she went over the wall and followed him.

Little Tom stared about the strange place. It was like a new world to him. He saw great spiders, with crowns and crosses on their backs, sitting in the middle of their webs. He saw lizards, brown and gray and green, and he thought they were snakes, and would sting him; but they were as much frightened as he was.

Tom went on and on, he hardly knew why; but he liked the great strange place and the cool fresh air.

"What a big place the world is!" he said, for now he could see dark woods and great plains and farms and villages, and far below he could see a clear stream of water. Tom thought he could get down there in five minutes, so down, down he went.

At last he came to a bank of beautiful shrubs. He lay down on the grass, but he did not fall asleep. He turned and tossed and felt so hot all over that he longed to get into the river to cool off. He went to the bank, and looked into the clear water. Every pebble was bright and clean, and the silver trout dashed off in fright at the sight of his black face. Tom dipped his hand in and felt it cooled, and said, "I will be a fish, I will swim in the water, I must be clean, I must be clean."

He put his hot sore feet into the water, then his legs, and then he went far in.

All the while Tom never saw the Irish-woman coming down behind him. She, too, stepped into the cool water, her shawl and her petticoat faded away, the green water-weeds floated round her sides. The white waterlilies floated round her head. The fairies of the stream came up from the bottom and bore her down in their arms, for she was their queen.

"Where have you been?" they asked her.

"I have been nursing sick folks; and whispering sweet dreams into their ears. I have been doing all that I can to help those who will not help themselves; and I have brought you a little brother." Then all the fairies laughed for joy. But the fairy queen said, "He is a little savage now and like the beasts, and from the beasts he must learn. So you must not play with him, nor speak to him, nor let him see you. You must only keep him from harm."

Then the fairies were sad because they could not play with their new brother, but they always did what they were told. And the queen floated down the river.

Tom tumbled himself into the clear, cool stream. He had not been in it two minutes before he fell fast asleep, and dreamed about the green meadows and the elm trees and the sleeping cows. When he awoke he was swimming about in the stream. He was only four inches long now, and he had a set of gills round his neck. The fairies had turned Tom into a water-baby.