HOW THE CHIMNEY-SWEEP GOT THE EAR OF THE EMPEROR

I.

Summer was come, and all the strong were bowed by the
burden of the awful heat, and many of the weak were prostrate
and dying. For weeks the army had been wasting away with a
plague of dysentery, that scourge of the soldier, and there
was but little help. The doctors were in despair; such
efficacy as their drugs and their science had once had--and
it was not much, at its best--was a thing of the past,
and promised to remain so.

The Emperor commanded the physicians of greatest renown
to appear before him for a consultation, for he was profoundly
disturbed. He was very severe with them, and called them to
account for letting his soldiers die; and asked them if they
knew their trade, or didn't; and were they properly healers,
or merely assassins? Then the principal assassin, who was
also the oldest doctor in the land and the most venerable in
appearance, answered and said--

2.

"We have done what we could, your Majesty, and for a good
reason it has been little: no medicine and no physician can
cure that disease; only Nature and a good constitution can
do it. I am old, and I know. No doctor and no medicine
can cure it--I repeat it and I emphasize it; sometimes they
seem to help Nature a little--a very little--but as a rule
they merely do damage."

The Emperor was a profane and passionate man, and he
deluged the doctors with rugged and unfamiliar names and drove
them from his presence. Within a day he was attacked by that
fell disease himself. The news flew from mouth to mouth, and
carried consternation with it all over the land. All the talk
was about this awful disaster, and there was general depression,
for few had hope. The Emperor himself was very melancholy,
and sighed and said--

"The will of God be done. Send for the assassins again,
and let us get over with it."

They came, and felt his pulse, and looked at his tongue,
and fetched the drugstore and emptied it into him, and sat
down patiently to wait--for they were not paid by the job,
but by the year.

3.

II.

Tommy was sixteen and a bright lad, but he was not in
society. His rank was too humble for that, and his employ-
ment too base; in fact it was the lowest of all employments,
for he was second in command to his father, who emptied cess-
pools and drove a night-cart. Tommy's closest friend was
Jimmy the chimney-sweep, a slim little fellow of fourteen,
who was honest and industrious, and had a good heart and
supported a bed-ridden mother by his dangerous and unpleasant
trade.

About a month after the Emperor fell ill,
Tthese two lads met one evening about nine. Tommy was
on his way to his night-work, and of course was not in his
Sundays, but in his dreadful work-clothes, and not smelling
very well; Jimmy was on his way home from his day's labor,
and was blacker than any other object imaginable, and he had
his brushes on his shoulder and his soot-bag at his waist,
and no feature of his sable face was distinguishable except
his lively eyes.

They sat down on the curbstone to talk; and of course
it was upon the one subject--the nation's calamity, the

4.

Emperor's disorder. Jimmy was full of a great project, and
burning to unfold it. He

"Tommy, I can cure his Majesty! I know how to do it."

Tommy was surprised.

"What? You?"

"Yes, I."

"Why, you little fool, the best doctors can't."

"I don't care, I can do it. I can cure him in fifteen
minutes."

"Oh, come off! What are you giving me?"

"The facts--that's all."

Jimmy's manner was so serious that it sobered Tommy, who
said--

"I believe you are in earnest, Jimmy. Are you in earnest?"

"I give you my word."

"What is the plan? How'll you cure him?"

"Tell him to eat a slice of ripe watermelon."

It caught Tommy rather suddenly, and he was shouting with
laughter at the absurdity of the idea before he could put on a
stopper. But he sobered down when he saw that Jimmy was

5.

wounded. He patted Jimmy's knee affectionately, not minding
the soot, and said--

"I take the laugh all back I didn't mean any harm,
Jimmy, and I won't do it again. You see, it seemed so funny,
because wherever there's a soldier-camp and dysentery, the
doctors always put up a sign saying anybody caught bringing
watermelons there will be flogged with the cat till he can't
stand."

"I know it--the idiots!" said Jimmy, with both tears
and anger in his voice. "There's plenty of watermelons,
and not one of all those soldiers ought to have died."

"But Jimmy, what put the notion in your head?"

"It isn't a notion, it's a fact. Do you know that old
gray-headed Zulu? Well, this long time back he has been
curing a lot of our friends, and my mother has seen him do
it, and so have I. It takes only one or two slices of melon,
and it don't make any difference whether the disease is new
or old, it cures it."

"It's very odd. But Jimmy, if it is so, the Emperor
ought to be told of it."

6.

"Of course; and my mother has told people, hoping they
could get the word to him; but they are poor working-folks
and ignorant, and don't know how to manage it."

"Of course they don't, the blunderheads," said Tommy,
scornfully; "I'll get it to him!"

"You? you night-cart polecat!" and it was Jimmy's turn
to laugh; but Tommy retorted sturdily--

"Oh, laugh if you like--but I'll do it!"

It had such an assured and confident sound that it made
an impression, and Jimmy asked, gravely--

"Do you know the Emperor?"

"Do I know him? Why, how you talk! Of course I don't."

"Then how'll you do it?"

"It's very simple, and very easy. Guess. How would you
do it, Jimmy?"

"Send him a letter. I never thought of it till this
minute. But I'll bet that's your way."

"I'll bet it ain't. Tell me--how would you send it?"

"Why, through the mail, of course."

Tommy overwhelmed him with scoffings, and said--

7.

"Now don't you suppose every crank in the Empire is doing
the same thing? Do you mean to say you haven't thought of
that?"

"Well no," said Jimmy, abashed.

"You might have thought of it, if you weren't so young
and inexperienced. Why Jimmy, when even a common General,
or a poet, or an actor, or anybody that's a little famous
gets sick, all the cranks in the kingdom load up the mails
with certain-sure quack-cures for him. And so, what's bound
to happen when it's the Emperor?"

"I suppose it's worse," said Jimmy, sheepishly.

"Well, I should think so. Look here, Jimmy, every single
night we cart off as many as six loads of that kind of letters
from the back yard of the palace where they're thrown. Eighty
thousand letters in one night! Do you reckon anybody reads
them? sSho! not a single one. It's what would happen to your
letter if you wrote it--which you won't, I reckon?"

"No," sighed Jimmy, crushed.

"But it's all right, Jimmy, don't you fret, there's more
than one way to skin a cat: I'll get the word to him."

8.

"Oh, if you only could, Tommy! I should love you for
ever!"

"I'll do it, I tell you. Don't you worry; you depend
on me."

"Indeed I will, Tommy, for you do know so much. You're
not like other boys; they never know anything. How'll you
manage, Tommy?"

Tommy was greatly pleased. He settled himself for re-
poseful talk, and said--

"Do you know that ragged poor thing that thinks he's a
butcher because he goes around with a basket and sells cat's-
meat and rotten livers? Well, to begin with, I'll tell him."

Jimmy was deeply disappointed and chagrined, and said--

"Now Tommy, it's a shame to talk so. You know my heart's
in it, and it's not right."

Tommy gave him a love-pat and said--

"Don't you be troubled, Jimmy, I know what I'm about.
Pretty soon you'll see. That half-breed butcher will tell
the old woman that sells chestnuts at the corner of the lane--
she's his closest friend, and I'll ask him to. Then--by

9.

request--she'll tell her rich aunt that keeps the little
fruit shop on the corner, two blocks above; and that one will
tell her particular friend the man that keeps the game-shop,
and he will tell his friend the sergeant of police, and the
sergeant will tell his captain, and the captain will tell the
magistrate, and the magistrate will tell his brother-in-law
the county judge, and the county judge will tell the sheriff,
and the sheriff will tell the Lord Mayor, and the Lord Mayor
will tell the President of the Council, and the President of
the Council will tell--"

"By George, but it's a wonderful scheme, Tommy! How ever
did you--"

"--Rear Admiral, and the Rear will tell the Vice, and the
Vice will tell the Admiral of the Blue, and the Blue will tell
the Red, and the Red will tell the White, and the White will
tell the First Lord of the Admiralty, and the First Lord will
tell the Speaker of the House, and the Speaker--"

"Go it Tommy, you're 'most there!"

"--will tell the Master of the Hounds, and the Master will
tell the Head Groom of the Stables, and the Head Groom will

10.

tell the Chief Equerry, and the Chief Equerry will tell the
First Lord in Waiting, and the First Lord will tell the Lord
High Chamberlain, and the Lord High Chamberlain will tell the
Master of the Household, and the Master of the Household will
tell the little pet page that fans the flies off the Emperor,
and the page will get down on his knees and whisper it to his
Majesty--and the game's made!"

"I've got to get up and hurrah a couple of times, Tommy,
it's the grandest idea that ever was. What ever put it into
your head?"

"Sit down and listen, and I'll give you some wisdom--
and don't you ever forget it as long as you live. Now then,
who is the closest friend you've got, and the one you couldn't
and wouldn't ever refuse anything in the world to?"

"Why, it's you, Tommy--you know that."

"Suppose you wanted to ask a pretty large favor of the
cat's-meat man. Well, you don't know him, and he would tell
you to go to thunder, for he is that kind of a person; but he
is my next best friend after you, and would run his legs off
to do me a kindness--any kindness he don't care what it is.

11.

Now I'll ask you: Which is the most common-sensible--for you to go
and ask him to tell the chestnut-woman about your watermelon
cure, or for you to get me to do it for you?"

"To get you to do it for me, of course. I wouldn't ever
have thought of that, Tommy--it's splendid."

"It's a philosophy, you see. Mighty good word--and
large. It goes on this idea: everybody in the world, little
and big, has one special friend, a friend that he's glad to do
favors to--not sour about it, but glad--glad clear to the
marrow. And so I don't care where you start, you can get
at anybody's ear that you want to I don't care how low you
are nor how high he is. And it's so simple: you've only to
find the first friend, that is all; that ends your part of the
work; he finds the next friend himself, and that one finds the
third, and so on, friend after friend, link after link, like a
chain, and you can go up it or down it, as high as you like or
as low as you like."

"It's just beautiful, Tommy."

"It's as simple and easy as A B C; but did you ever hear
of anybody trying it? No, everybody is a fool. He goes to a

12.

stranger, without any introduction, or writes a letter,
and of course he strikes a cold wave--and serves him gorgeously
right. Now the Emperor don't know me, but that's no matter--
he'll eat his watermelon to-morrow. You'll see. Hi-hi--stop!
It's the cat's-meat man. Good-bye, Jimmy, I'll overtake him."

He did overtake him, and said--

"Say--will you do me a favor?"

"Will I? Well, I should say! I'm your man--name it,
and see me fly!"

"Go tell the chestnut-woman to put down everything and
carry this message to her first-best friend and tell the friend
to pass it along." He worded the message, and said, "Now
then, rush!"

The next moment the chimney-sweep's word to the Emperor
was on its way.

IIIV.

The next evening, toward midnight, the doctors sat while whis-
pering together in the imperial sick-room, and they were in
deep trouble, for the Emperor was in very bad case. They

13.

could not hide it from themselves that every time they emptied
a fresh drugstore into him he got worse. It saddened them,
for they were expecting that result. The poor emaciated
Emperor lay motionless, with his eyes closed, and the page
that was his darling was fanning the flies away and crying
softly. Presently the boy heard the silken rustle of a
portière, and turned and saw the Lord High Great Master of
the Household peering in at the door and excitedly motioning
to him to come. Lightly and swiftly the page tip-toed his
way to his dear and worshipped friend the Master, who said--

"Only you can persuade him and oh, don't fail to do it!
Take this--make him eat it, and he is saved."

"On my head be it. He shall eat it!"

It was a couple of great slices of ruddy fresh water-
melon.

The next morning the news flew everywhere that the Emperor
was sound and well again, and had hanged the doctors. A wave
of joy swept the land, and frantic preparations were made to
illuminate.

After breakfast his Majesty sat meditating. His grati-
tude was unspeakable, and he was trying to devise a reward
rich enough to properly testify it to his benefactor. He
got it arranged in his mind, and called the page, and asked
him if he had invented that cure. The boy said no--he got
it from the Master of the of the Household.

He was sent away, and the Emperor went to devising again.
The Master was an Earl; he would make him a Duke, and give him
a vast estate which belonged to a member of the Opposition.
He had him called, and asked him if he was the inventor of
the remedy. But the Master was an honest man, and said he
got it of the Grand Chamberlain. He was sent away, and the
Emperor thought some more. The Chamberlain was a Viscount;
he would make him an Earl, and give him a large income. But
the Chamberlain referred him to the First Lord in Waiting,
and there was some more thinking. His Majesty He thought out a smaller
reward. But the First Lord in Waiting referred him back
further, and he had to sit down and think out a further and
becomingly and suitably smaller reward.

Then ,to break the tediousness of the inquiry and hurry the business, he sent for the Grand High Chief Detective, and

15.

commanded him to trace the cure to the bottom, so that he
could properlyreward his benefactor.

At nine in the evening the High Chief Detective brought
the word. He had traced the cure down to a lad named Jimmy,
a chimney-sweep. The Emperor said, with deep feeling--

"Brave boy, he saved my life, and shall not regret it!"

And sent him a pair of his own boots; and the next best
ones he had, too. They were too large for Jimmy, but they
fitted the Zulu, so it was all right, and everything as it
should be.

Main Page