Everychild : $b A story which the old may interpret to the young and which the young may interpret to the old — John Shaqi
Everychild : $b A story which the old may interpret to the young and which the young may interpret to the oldDodge, Louis
Science
Everychild : $b A story which the old may interpret to the young and which the young may interpret to the old
Dodge, Louis
Fairy tales; Fantasy literature
Everychild looked to see who it was that had spoken: and whom should he
behold emerging from the forest but Father Time! He carried his scythe
and sand-glass, and he moved forward with majesty, yet with haste. He
fixed his gaze upon Jack and uttered one more thrilling word--"Stop!"
To Everychild he seemed a changed person as he adjusted both his scythe
and his sand-glass in his left hand and advanced with his right hand
uplifted. He seemed very stern. His eyes traveled from one face to
another until at length they rested only on Jack. Then upon the
shoulder of Jack the Giant Killer his hand descended.
Everychild could scarcely believe his own eyes for a moment or two. A
tragic change occurred in the youth who had been so splendid.
_He had become old and infirm_! His clothes were in tatters, his form
was bent, his sword was covered with rust.
Then Jack--trembling and helpless--looked wonderingly and forlornly at
Father Time. "What have you done to me?" he asked in a quivering voice.
Father Time replied calmly: "I have laid my hand on your shoulder!"
"Yes--but I don't mean that," said Jack. "Something strange . . . my
boots: see, they have been changed. They were new and wonderful. In
them I could take steps seven leagues long!"
Father Time replied: "Jack the Giant Killer, when I have laid my hand
upon you again and yet again, you shall possess the true seven-league
boots. They shall carry you seventy times seven leagues--and beyond."
"And my invisible cloak--it was rich and fine before you came; and now
it is ragged."
"Jack the Giant Killer, when I have laid my hand upon you again and yet
again, it shall be given to you to wear the true and only invisible
cloak."
Jack looked ruefully at his sword. With a sob he exclaimed, "And my
sword of sharpness! . . ."
Father Time replied, "Jack the Giant Killer, beneath my touch the sword
of sharpness becomes the sword of rust."
For an instant Jack searched the faces of the others. "Have I no
friend here?" he demanded. "Will no one take my part?"
Everychild's heart was touched with pity; but before he could speak
Father Time continued:
"I am your friend. And I bid you go home and cultivate those virtues
which you know not. Be patient, and contentment shall come: a friend
more unfailing than a strong arm. And hope shall come: a friend more
fleet than seven-league boots. And faith shall be yours: far better
raiment than your cloak which was invisible."
But Jack hung his head. "And my beautiful sword that was my
pride . . ."
To the amazement of all it was the giant, Will o'Dreams, who stepped
forward to comfort Jack. In a voice which was marvelously kind he said:
"I know you for a brave youth, Jack the Giant Killer; and as for me, it
has been said that I am generous. Listen: I alone among all the race
of giants have power to bid Father Time move speedily, or to retrace
his steps. Let us see what I can do."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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