A CHINA CUP AND OTHER STORIES FOR CHILDREN - 8 childrens stories
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About this ebook
- 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.
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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.
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A CHINA CUP AND OTHER STORIES FOR CHILDREN - 8 childrens stories - Felix Volkhovsky
A China Cup
and Other Stories
For Children
BY
Felix Volkhovsky
Illustrated 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:
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