A CHINA CUP AND OTHER STORIES FOR CHILDREN - 8 childrens stories E-Book

Felix Volkhovsky

• Herausgeber: Abela Publishing
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021

Beschreibung

Herein are 8 disparate stories from Northern Climes compiled by Feliks Vadimovich Volkhovsky. The stories in this book originate from Baltiysk in Western Russia to Vladivostok in the East. This stories in this book are:

• A China cup
• How Scarlet-Comb the cock defended the right
• The tiny screw
• The dream
• Browny
• The old sword's mistake
• 'My own'
• The tale about how all these tales came to light.

10% of the profit from the sale of this book will be donated to charities.
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KEYWORDS/TAGS: A China cup, young girl, smash, repair, favourite, stories for children, Folklore, Fairy Tales, Scarlet-Comb, cock, defend, the right, tiny, screw, dream, Browny, old sword, mistake, tales, myths, legends, storyteller, fables, fantasy, magic, imagination,
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Feliks Vadimovich Volkhovsky was a Russian revolutionary, journalist and writer. He became involved in radical student politics in St Petersburg in the 1860s. In 1867, he co-founded the 'One Rouble Society' which was dedicated to propaganda and educational work among the masses. He escaped from Siberian exile in 1889 and then settled in London.
A significant figure in Russian socialist circles in the 1870s, he assumed two tasks in English emigration. One was rallying Western public opinion against Tsarism; the other was attempting to convince the Russian revolutionary opposition to work together to secure a constitution for their country. His accomplishments in England have been overlooked because he worked in the shadow of the more well‐known Russian émigré, Stepniak.

Leseprobe

A China Cup and Other Stories For Children

BY

Felix VolkhovskyIllustrated By

Malischeff

Originally Published By

T. Fisher Unwin, London[1892]

SECOND EDITION

Resurrected By

Abela Publishing, London

[2021]

A China Cup And Other Stories For Children

Typographical arrangement of this edition

© Abela Publishing 2021

This book may not be reproduced in its current format in any manner in any media, or transmitted by any means whatsoever, electronic, electrostatic, magnetic tape, or mechanical ( including photocopy, file or video recording, internet web sites, blogs,wikis, or any other information storage and retrieval system) except as permitted by law without the prior written permission of the publisher.

Abela Publishing,

London

United Kingdom

2021

ISBN-13: 978-X-XXXXXX-XX-X

email:

[email protected]

Website:

http://bit.ly/2HekG4n

"Seizing a heavy silver candlestick, the Magnate flung it violently at the fowl."

Contents

I.A China Cup

II.How Scarlet-Comb the Cock defended the Right

III.The Tiny Screw

IV.The Dream

V.Browny

VI.The Old Sword's Mistake

VII.'My Own'

VIII.The Tale about how all these Tales came to Light

A China Cup

waggon drove to the great pit dug in the clay—not common clay, but such as china vessels are made of. A man with an iron spade jumped from the waggon; he entered the pit and began to dig the clay. After the first stroke of the spade a little lump fell out of the native ground, and with a bitter, plaintive murmur rolled down. Nobody heard the murmur; it seemed to the workman that the Lump in rolling down made a slight noise, whereas it was groaning: it was hard to be torn away from mother earth. 'All is over,' it whispered; 'oh, how hard it is to live in the world!'

The workman took it up on his spade with the other clay, and threw it into the waggon. 'Oh!' groaned the bit of clay from pain, as it fell on the bottom of the waggon; 'not only was I torn away from my mother, but thrown far away from her. Alas! is there any one more unhappy in this world than I? I should like to die!'

But the Lump did not die. The workman had soon filled up his waggon, jumped in himself, and drove away, carrying it to the china factory. It was pretty well while they were going along an even place, but when they went down a steep mountain-side, the horse ran fast, and our Lump was jolted, thrown from side to side, and knocked against the waggon. Nor did all its torments end then. As soon as it was brought to the china factory, it was thrown with other clay into a large tub with water in it, and it felt with horror how it began gradually to get soft, and to be transformed into a sort of soft mud. It had no time to recover, as it was taken out with a great ladle and poured somewhere—it was into the funnel of the great millstones. The driver shouted, the horses went on, pulled one end of a bar, which was fastened by the other end to a big axle standing erect in the middle of the great millstones; the bar again turned the axle to which the upper millstone was fastened, and the millstones began to grind the water-softened clay, crushing its smallest particles. Our Lump no longer existed, but all its little particles which before formed it were now like clay-jelly, and kept close together.

Ah, how they suffered! The awful millstone pressed upon them with its whole weight—squeezed, flattened, ground them. They shrivelled, groaned, cried from pain and said: 'Oh-o-o! what a torture! it is all over with us!'

But that was not all. After the grinding the clay-jelly was poured by means of gutters into the empty wooden tub to settle. There the hard particles, heavier than water, sank.... On the bottom was the sand, next the reddish clay, mixed with iron-rust, then the coarser parts of the white clay, and finally its lightest particles, quite free from all other mixture. All the particles of our Lump happened to be of the same weight and to be nicely ground; they sank together and formed again the same Lump, only soft, delicate, and free from all unnecessary admixture. It was very nice, of course, but the little Lump was so tired from all it suffered, so exhausted, that it did not wish to live in the world. 'I would rather death would come!' it said.

Death, however, did not come. A workman came instead, poured off the water which was on the surface of the clay, cut the clay to the bottom, separated it into layers, and assorted them, so that the upper, more delicate layer was for the best china vessels, and the lower for the coarser plates. As our Lump was in the upper layer, it was taken to a workman who made the finest vessels.

The workman took our Lump, put it into the middle of a round table which turned on its centre, made this table spin round with his feet, and at the same time pressed the clay here and there till he had made a coarse cup without a handle. The workman then, with an instrument like a knife, began to turn the cup, till it became a fine, fine one. He then handed it to his neighbour, who put a nice little handle to it. 'Well,' thought the Lump, transformed now into a cup, 'it is not so bad. I suffered indeed, but what a beauty I am now!' ... and the Cup looked self-contentedly around. She did not rejoice long. She was soon put with others into one of the pots of particular form called 'muffles,' and the muffles were put into a furnace, which began to heat the Cup by scorching degrees to make it red hot. 'Oh, how hot it is!' stammered the poor Cup, perspiring, crying, and groaning at once. 'Oh, what a torture! Oh, how hard it is to live in the world! I should like to die!'

Still, she did not die. She was taken from the furnace, watered with a certain mixture, burnt once more. A charming bouquet and garland were then painted on her, and the Cup did not recognise herself. 'Ah, how happy I am!' said she to herself; 'it was worthwhile to suffer all that I suffered. I am the most beautiful here, and there is and will be no one happier.'

Very soon the Cup went from the factory to the shop. She was delighted to see the fine hall with large windows and nice glass cases. She enjoyed the society of china cups, teapots, plates, and all sorts of most beautiful things.

'Here,' thought she, 'they can appreciate my beauty!' and she immediately addressed her neighbour, a big, round teapot: 'Please, sir, have you been long here?'

'Yes,' answered the teapot gruffly, knocking with his coarse lid.

'And do you think there was ever before a cup with such fine ornament and delicate painting as I have?'

'Ho-ho-ho-ha-ha!' ... laughed the big teapot. 'Just listen!' shouted he to his companions, as big and coarse as himself; 'this damsel is asking whether there is in the world a beauty like her?... O-ho-ho-ho!'

'Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!' burst all the big teapots in laughter, holding their sides with their handles.

Our Cup was offended, and ashamed to tears.

'What are you laughing at?' whispered she in confusion.

'And how can we help laughing?' exclaimed her neighbour; 'you think too much of yourself; and what are you good for? To spend all your life on some nice shelf; you need cheapness and solidity to be of some use. And as for your ornament, look to your right, on the third shelf; there are more elegant ones there than you!'

The Cup looked to the right, and would have grown green from envy if she could have changed colour. There were standing fine cups on small feet; such delicate, fine cups, like white, pale, and pink rose petals! ... the beautiful bouquets, the prettiest heads, the finest gold lace, with black and green ornamentation, were painted upon them. These cups were also proud of their beauty, and as they were more beautiful than their new companion, they looked at her with contempt and haughtiness.

In the china factory the Cup thought herself the most beautiful in the world, and was quite happy; and now she was forced not only to acknowledge that there were more beautiful ones, but to listen to the mocking words and endure the most offensive looks. Envy, vexation, shame, tormented her, and she would fain run away somewhere, yet she could not move from the spot. This helplessness added still to her pain and anger. She would like to have sunk into the earth. 'Ah,' thought she, 'why did I not die before! Why does death not come now!'

Death did not come, however. The shop door opened, a fine lady, with a richly-dressed young girl of about ten years of age, came in.

'We want a nice cup, not too expensive,' said the lady to the shopman at the counter.

The shopman took our Cup and some others from the shelf and put them on the counter. Oh, what our Cup felt at that moment! She was displayed with half a dozen of her companions, every one of whom thought herself more beautiful than the others, and was proud of it. Suppose these elegant purchasers should give the preference not to her, but to one of her conceited companions? She felt as if on burning coals. The little girl stretched her hand to one of our Cup's neighbours, and the Cup trembled with anxiety. But the little purchaser only touched the rival of our Cup and finally took the latter. 'This one, mamma,' said the child, and the mother bought her. Oh, with what a pride shone now this plaything, and how haughtily she looked at her companions! Her beauty is now openly acknowledged; she is preferred to others! She was bright with happiness, and slightly trembled when the shopman took her from the counter to wrap her in paper.

'Ah, how happy I am!' said the Cup in the evening, when fragrant tea was poured in, and all who were sitting at the tea-table admired her; 'of course there is and will be nobody happier than I.'

Just at this moment the pretty little girl who had chosen her at the shop came running in from the garden. She was very thirsty. She seized the Cup and took a sip at once, notwithstanding that they cried to her that the tea was too hot. The Cup certainly was not to blame that the girl from her own carelessness had scalded her mouth, and the girl treated her unjustly. 'Oh, you nasty Cup!' cried she, and threw her to the floor.