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The Emperor's New Suit
Many, many years ago lived an emperor, who thought so much of new clothes that he spent all his money in order to obtain them; his only ambition was to be always well dressed. He did not care for his soldiers, and the theatre did not amuse him; the only thing, in fact, he thought anything of was to drive out and show a new suit of clothes. He had a coat for every hour of the day; and as one would say of a king "He is in his . cabinet," so one could say of him, "The emperor is in his dressing-room."
The great city where he resided was very gay; every day many strangers from all parts of the globe arrived. One day two swindlers came to this city; they made people believe that they were weavers, and declared they could manufacture the finest cloth to be imagined. Their colours and patterns, they said, were not only exceptionally beautiful, but the clothes made of their material possessed the wonderful quality of being invisible to any man who was unfit for his office or unpardonably stupid.
"That must be wonderful cloth," thought the emperor. "If I were to be dressed in a suit made of this cloth I should be able to find out which men in my empire were unfit for their places, and I could distinguish the clever from the stupid. I must have this cloth woven for me without delay." And he gave a large sum of money to the swindlers, in advance, that they should set to work without any loss of time. They set up two looms, and pretended to be very hard at work, but they did nothing whatever on the looms. They asked for the finest silk and the most precious gold-cloth; all they got they did away with, and worked at the empty looms till late at night.
"I should very much like to know how they are getting on with the cloth," thought the emperor. But he felt rather uneasy when he remembered that he who was not . fit for his office could not see it. Personally, he was of opinion that he had nothing to fear, yet he thought it advisable to send somebody else first to see how matters stood. Everybody in the town knew what a remarkable quality the stuff possessed, and all were anxious to see how bad or stupid their neighbours were.

"I shall send my honest old minister to the weavers," thought the emperor. "He can judge best how the stuff looks, for he is intelligent, and nobody understands his office better than he."
The good old minister went into the room where the swindlers sat before the empty looms. "Heaven preserve us!" he thought, and opened his eyes wide, "I cannot see anything at all," but he did not say so. Both swindlers requested him to come near, and asked him if he did not admire the exquisite pattern and the beautiful colours, pointing to the empty looms. The poor old minister tried his very best, but he could . see nothing, for there was nothing to be seen. "Oh dear," he thought, "can I be so stupid? I should never have thought so, and nobody must know it! Is it possible that I am not fit for my office? No, no, I cannot say that I was unable to see the cloth."
"Now, have you got nothing to say?" said one of the swindlers, while he pretended to be busily weaving.
"Oh, it is very pretty, exceedingly beautiful," replied the old minister looking through his glasses. "What a beautiful pattern, what brilliant colours! I shall tell the emperor that I like the cloth very much."
"We are pleased to hear that," said the two weavers, and described to him the colours and explained the curious pattern. The old minister listened attentively, that he might relate to the emperor what they said; and so he did.
Now the swindlers asked for more money, silk and gold-cloth, which they required for weaving. They kept everything for themselves, and not a thread came near the loom, but they continued, as hitherto, to work at the empty looms.
Soon afterwards the emperor sent another honest courtier to the weavers to see how they were getting on, and if the cloth was nearly finished. Like the old minister, he looked and looked but could see nothing, as there was nothing to be seen.
"Is it not a beautiful piece of cloth?" asked the two swindlers, showing and explaining the magnificent pattern, which, however, did not exist.
"I am not stupid," said the man. "It is therefore my good appointment for which I am not fit. It is very strange, but I must not let any one know it;" and he praised the cloth, which he did not see, and expressed his joy at the beautiful colours and the fine pattern. "It is very excellent," he said to the emperor.

Everybody in the whole town talked about the precious cloth. At last the emperor wished to see it himself, while it was still on the loom. With a number of courtiers, including the two who had already been there, he went to the two clever swindlers, who . now worked as hard as they could, but without using any thread.
"Is it not magnificent?" said the two old statesmen who had been there before. "Your Majesty must admire the colours and the pattern." And then they pointed to the empty looms, for they imagined the others . could see the cloth.
"What is this?" thought the emperor, "I do not see anything at all. That is terrible! Am I stupid? Am I unfit to be emperor? That would indeed be the most dreadful thing that could happen to me."
"Really," he said, turning to the weavers, "your cloth has our most gracious approval;" and nodding contentedly he looked at the empty loom, for he did not like to say that he saw nothing. All his attendants, who were with him, looked and looked, and although they could not see anything more than the . others, they said, like the emperor, "It is very beautiful." And all advised him to wear the new magnificent clothes at a great procession which was soon to take place. "It is magnificent, beautiful, excellent," one heard them say; everybody seemed to be delighted, and the emperor appointed the two swindlers "Imperial Court weavers."
The whole night previous to the day on which the procession was to take place, the swindlers pretended to work, and burned more than sixteen candles. People should see that they were busy to finish the emperors new suit. They pretended to take the cloth from the loom, and worked about in the air with big scissors, and sewed with needles without thread, and said at last: "The emperors new suit is ready now."
The emperor and all his barons then came to the hall; the swindlers held their arms up as if they held something in their hands and said: "These are the trousers!" "This is the coat!" and "Here is the cloak!" and so on. "They are all as light as a cobweb, and one must feel as if one had nothing at all upon the body; but that is just the beauty of them."

"Indeed!" said all the courtiers; but they could not see anything, for there was nothing to be seen.
"Does it please your Majesty now to graciously undress," said the swindlers, "that we may assist your Majesty in putting on the new suit before the large looking-glass?"
The emperor undressed, and the . swindlers pretended to put the new suit upon him, one piece after another; and the emperor looked at himself in the glass from every side.
"How well they look! How well they fit!" said all. "What a beautiful pattern! What fine colours! That is a magnificent suit of clothes!"
The master of the ceremonies announced that the bearers of the canopy, which was to be carried in the procession, were ready.
"I am ready," said the emperor. "Does not my suit fit me marvellously?" Then he turned once more to the looking-glass, that people should think he admired his garments.
The chamberlains, who were to carry the train, stretched their hands to the ground as if they lifted up a train, and pretended to hold something in their hands; they did not like people to know that they could not see anything.
The emperor marched in the procession under the beautiful canopy, and all who saw him in the street and out of the windows exclaimed: "Indeed, the emperors new suit is incomparable! What a long train he has! How well it fits him!" Nobody wished to let others know he saw nothing, for then he would have been unfit for his office or too stupid. Never emperors clothes were more admired.
"But he has nothing on at all," said a little child at last. "Good heavens! listen to the voice of an innocent child," said the father, and one . whispered to the other what the child had said. "But he has nothing on at all," cried at last the whole people. That made a deep impression upon the emperor, for it seemed to him that they were right; but he thought to himself, "Now I must bear up to the end." And the chamberlains walked with still greater dignity, as if they carried the train which did not exist.

Hans Christian Andersen

The Emperor's New Suit
Many, many years ago lived an emperor, who thought so much of new clothes that he spent all his money in order to obtain them; his only ambition was to be always well dressed. He did not care for his soldiers, and the theatre did not amuse him; the only thing, in fact, he thought anything of was to drive out and show a new suit of clothes. He had a coat for every hour of the day; and as one would say of a king "He is in his . cabinet," so one could say of him, "The emperor is in his dressing-room."
The great city where he resided was very gay; every day many strangers from all parts of the globe arrived. One day two swindlers came to this city; they made people believe that they were weavers, and declared they could manufacture the finest cloth to be imagined. Their colours and patterns, they said, were not only exceptionally beautiful, but the clothes made of their material possessed the wonderful quality of being invisible to any man who was unfit for his office or unpardonably stupid.
"That must be wonderful cloth," thought the emperor. "If I were to be dressed in a suit made of this cloth I should be able to find out which men in my empire were unfit for their places, and I could distinguish the clever from the stupid. I must have this cloth woven for me without delay." And he gave a large sum of money to the swindlers, in advance, that they should set to work without any loss of time. They set up two looms, and pretended to be very hard at work, but they did nothing whatever on the looms. They asked for the finest silk and the most precious gold-cloth; all they got they did away with, and worked at the empty looms till late at night.
"I should very much like to know how they are getting on with the cloth," thought the emperor. But he felt rather uneasy when he remembered that he who was not . fit for his office could not see it. Personally, he was of opinion that he had nothing to fear, yet he thought it advisable to send somebody else first to see how matters stood. Everybody in the town knew what a remarkable quality the stuff possessed, and all were anxious to see how bad or stupid their neighbours were.

"I shall send my honest old minister to the weavers," thought the emperor. "He can judge best how the stuff looks, for he is intelligent, and nobody understands his office better than he."
The good old minister went into the room where the swindlers sat before the empty looms. "Heaven preserve us!" he thought, and opened his eyes wide, "I cannot see anything at all," but he did not say so. Both swindlers requested him to come near, and asked him if he did not admire the exquisite pattern and the beautiful colours, pointing to the empty looms. The poor old minister tried his very best, but he could . see nothing, for there was nothing to be seen. "Oh dear," he thought, "can I be so stupid? I should never have thought so, and nobody must know it! Is it possible that I am not fit for my office? No, no, I cannot say that I was unable to see the cloth."
"Now, have you got nothing to say?" said one of the swindlers, while he pretended to be busily weaving.
"Oh, it is very pretty, exceedingly beautiful," replied the old minister looking through his glasses. "What a beautiful pattern, what brilliant colours! I shall tell the emperor that I like the cloth very much."
"We are pleased to hear that," said the two weavers, and described to him the colours and explained the curious pattern. The old minister listened attentively, that he might relate to the emperor what they said; and so he did.
Now the swindlers asked for more money, silk and gold-cloth, which they required for weaving. They kept everything for themselves, and not a thread came near the loom, but they continued, as hitherto, to work at the empty looms.
Soon afterwards the emperor sent another honest courtier to the weavers to see how they were getting on, and if the cloth was nearly finished. Like the old minister, he looked and looked but could see nothing, as there was nothing to be seen.
"Is it not a beautiful piece of cloth?" asked the two swindlers, showing and explaining the magnificent pattern, which, however, did not exist.
"I am not stupid," said the man. "It is therefore my good appointment for which I am not fit. It is very strange, but I must not let any one know it;" and he praised the cloth, which he did not see, and expressed his joy at the beautiful colours and the fine pattern. "It is very excellent," he said to the emperor.

Everybody in the whole town talked about the precious cloth. At last the emperor wished to see it himself, while it was still on the loom. With a number of courtiers, including the two who had already been there, he went to the two clever swindlers, who . now worked as hard as they could, but without using any thread.
"Is it not magnificent?" said the two old statesmen who had been there before. "Your Majesty must admire the colours and the pattern." And then they pointed to the empty looms, for they imagined the others . could see the cloth.
"What is this?" thought the emperor, "I do not see anything at all. That is terrible! Am I stupid? Am I unfit to be emperor? That would indeed be the most dreadful thing that could happen to me."
"Really," he said, turning to the weavers, "your cloth has our most gracious approval;" and nodding contentedly he looked at the empty loom, for he did not like to say that he saw nothing. All his attendants, who were with him, looked and looked, and although they could not see anything more than the . others, they said, like the emperor, "It is very beautiful." And all advised him to wear the new magnificent clothes at a great procession which was soon to take place. "It is magnificent, beautiful, excellent," one heard them say; everybody seemed to be delighted, and the emperor appointed the two swindlers "Imperial Court weavers."
The whole night previous to the day on which the procession was to take place, the swindlers pretended to work, and burned more than sixteen candles. People should see that they were busy to finish the emperors new suit. They pretended to take the cloth from the loom, and worked about in the air with big scissors, and sewed with needles without thread, and said at last: "The emperors new suit is ready now."
The emperor and all his barons then came to the hall; the swindlers held their arms up as if they held something in their hands and said: "These are the trousers!" "This is the coat!" and "Here is the cloak!" and so on. "They are all as light as a cobweb, and one must feel as if one had nothing at all upon the body; but that is just the beauty of them."

"Indeed!" said all the courtiers; but they could not see anything, for there was nothing to be seen.
"Does it please your Majesty now to graciously undress," said the swindlers, "that we may assist your Majesty in putting on the new suit before the large looking-glass?"
The emperor undressed, and the . swindlers pretended to put the new suit upon him, one piece after another; and the emperor looked at himself in the glass from every side.
"How well they look! How well they fit!" said all. "What a beautiful pattern! What fine colours! That is a magnificent suit of clothes!"
The master of the ceremonies announced that the bearers of the canopy, which was to be carried in the procession, were ready.
"I am ready," said the emperor. "Does not my suit fit me marvellously?" Then he turned once more to the looking-glass, that people should think he admired his garments.
The chamberlains, who were to carry the train, stretched their hands to the ground as if they lifted up a train, and pretended to hold something in their hands; they did not like people to know that they could not see anything.
The emperor marched in the procession under the beautiful canopy, and all who saw him in the street and out of the windows exclaimed: "Indeed, the emperors new suit is incomparable! What a long train he has! How well it fits him!" Nobody wished to let others know he saw nothing, for then he would have been unfit for his office or too stupid. Never emperors clothes were more admired.
"But he has nothing on at all," said a little child at last. "Good heavens! listen to the voice of an innocent child," said the father, and one . whispered to the other what the child had said. "But he has nothing on at all," cried at last the whole people. That made a deep impression upon the emperor, for it seemed to him that they were right; but he thought to himself, "Now I must bear up to the end." And the chamberlains walked with still greater dignity, as if they carried the train which did not exist.

Hans Christian Andersen

Although I thus readily accounted to my reason, if not altogether to my conscience, for the startling fact just detailed, it did not the less fail to make a deep impression upon my fancy. For . months I could not rid myself of the phantasm of the cat; and, during this period, there came back into my spirit a half-sentiment that seemed, but was not, remorse. I went so far as to regret the loss of the animal, and to look about me, among the vile haunts which I now habitually frequented, for another pet of the same species, and of somewhat similar appearance, with which to supply its place.

One night as I sat, half stupified, in a den of more than infamy, my attention was suddenly drawn to some black object, reposing upon the head of one of the immense hogsheads of Gin, or of Rum, which constituted the chief furniture of the apartment. I had been looking steadily at the top of this hogshead for some minutes, and what now caused me surprise was the fact that I had not sooner perceived the object thereupon. I approached it, and touched it with my hand. It was a black cat - a very large one - fully as large as Pluto, and closely resembling him in every respect but one. Pluto had not a white hair upon any portion of his body; but this cat had a large, although indefinite splotch of white, covering nearly the whole region of the breast. Upon my touching him, he immediately arose, purred loudly, rubbed against my hand, and appeared delighted with my notice. This, then, was the very creature of which I was in search. I . at once offered to purchase it of the landlord; but this person made no claim to it - knew nothing of it - had never seen it before.

I continued my caresses, and, when I prepared to go home, the animal evinced a disposition to accompany me. I permitted it to do so; occasionally stooping and patting it as I proceeded. When it reached the house it domesticated itself at once, and became immediately a great favorite with my wife.

For my own part, I soon found a dislike to it arising within me. This was just the reverse of what I had anticipated; but - I know not how or why it was - its evident fondness for myself rather disgusted and annoyed. By slow degrees, these feelings of disgust and annoyance rose into the bitterness of hatred. I avoided the creature; a certain sense of shame, and the remembrance of my former deed of cruelty, preventing me from physically abusing it. I did not, for some weeks, strike, or otherwise violently ill use it; but gradually - very gradually - I came to look upon it with unutterable loathing, and to flee silently from its odious presence, as from the breath of a pestilence.

What added, no doubt, to my hatred of the beast, was the discovery, on the morning after I brought it home, that, like Pluto, it also had been deprived of one of its eyes. This circumstance, however, only endeared it to my wife, who, as I have already said, possessed, in a high degree, that humanity of feeling which had once been my distinguishing trait, and the source of many of my simplest and purest pleasures.

With my aversion to this cat, however, its partiality for myself seemed to increase. It followed my footsteps with a pertinacity which it would be difficult to make the reader comprehend. Whenever I sat, it would crouch beneath my chair, or spring upon my knees, covering me with its loathsome caresses. If I arose to walk it would get between my feet and thus nearly throw me down, or, fastening its long and sharp claws in my dress, clamber, in this manner, to my breast. At such times, although I longed to destroy it with a blow, I was yet withheld from so doing, partly by a memory of my former crime, but chiefly - let me confess it at once - by absolute dread of the beast.

This dread was not exactly a dread of physical evil - and yet I should be at a loss how otherwise to define it. I am almost ashamed to own - yes, even in this felons cell, I am almost ashamed to own - that the terror and horror with which the animal inspired me, had been heightened by one of the merest chimaeras it would be possible to conceive. My wife had called my attention, more than once, to the character of the mark . of white hair, of which I have spoken, and which constituted the sole visible difference between the strange beast and the one I had destroyed. The reader will remember that this mark, although large, had been originally very indefinite; but, by slow degrees - degrees nearly imperceptible, and which for a long time my Reason struggled to reject as fanciful - it had, at length, assumed a rigorous distinctness of outline. It was now the representation of an object that I shudder to name - and for this, above all, I loathed, and dreaded, and would have rid myself of . the monster had I dared - it was now, I say, the image of a hideous - of a ghastly thing - of the GALLOWS ! - oh, mournful and terrible engine of Horror and of Crime - of Agony and of Death !

And now was I indeed wretched beyond the wretchedness of mere Humanity. And a brute beast - whose fellow I had contemptuously destroyed - a brute beast to work out for me - for me a man, fashioned in the image of the High God - so much of insufferable wo! Alas! neither by day . nor by night knew I the blessing of Rest any more! During the former the creature left me no moment alone; and, in the latter, I started, hourly, from dreams of unutterable fear, to find the hot breath of the thing upon my face, and its vast weight - an incarnate Night-Mare that I had no power to shake off - incumbent eternally upon my heart!

Beneath the pressure of torments such as these, the feeble remnant of the good within me succumbed. Evil thoughts became my sole intimates - the darkest and most evil of thoughts. The moodiness of my usual temper increased to hatred of all things and of all mankind; while, from the sudden, frequent, and ungovernable outbursts of a fury to which I now blindly abandoned myself, my uncomplaining wife, alas! was the most usual and the most patient of sufferers.

One day she . accompanied me, upon some household errand, into the cellar of the old building which our poverty compelled us to inhabit. The cat followed me down the steep stairs, and, nearly throwing me headlong, exasperated me to madness. Uplifting an axe, and forgetting, in my wrath, the childish dread which had hitherto stayed my hand, I aimed a blow at the animal which, of course, would have proved instantly fatal had it descended as I wished. But this blow was arrested by the hand of my wife. Goaded, by the interference, into a rage more than demoniacal, I withdrew my arm . from her grasp and buried the axe in her brain. She fell dead upon the spot, without a groan.

This hideous murder accomplished, I set myself forthwith, and with entire deliberation, to the task of concealing the body. I knew that I could . not remove it from the house, either by day or by night, without the risk of being observed by the neighbors. Many projects entered my mind. At one period I thought of cutting the corpse into minute fragments, and destroying them by fire. At another, I resolved to dig a grave for it in the floor of the cellar. Again, I deliberated about casting it in the well in the yard - about packing it in a box, as if merchandize, with the usual arrangements, and so getting a porter to take it from the house. Finally I hit upon what I considered a far better expedient than either of these. I determined to wall it up in the cellar - as the monks of the middle ages are recorded to have walled up their victims.

For a purpose such as this the cellar was well adapted. Its walls were loosely constructed, and had lately been plastered throughout with a rough plaster, which the dampness of the atmosphere had prevented from hardening. Moreover, in one of the walls was a projection, caused by a false chimney, or fireplace, that had been filled up, and made to resemble the red of the cellar. I made no doubt that I could readily displace the bricks at this point, insert the corpse, and wall the whole up as before, so that no eye could detect any thing suspicious. And in this calculation I was not deceived. By means of a crow-bar I easily dislodged the bricks, and, having carefully deposited the body against the inner wall, I propped it in that position, while, with little trouble, I re-laid the whole structure as it originally stood. Having procured mortar, sand, and hair, with every possible precaution, I prepared a plaster which could not be distinguished from the old, and with this I very carefully went over the new brickwork. When I had finished, I felt satisfied that all was right. The wall did not present the slightest appearance of having been disturbed. The rubbish on the floor was picked up with the minutest . care. I looked around triumphantly, and said to myself - "Here at least, then, my labor has not been in vain."
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the hangman. I had walled the monster up within the tomb!

My next step was to look for the beast which had been the cause of so much wretchedness; for I had, at length, firmly resolved to put it to death. Had I been able to meet with it, at the moment, there could have been no doubt of its fate; but it appeared that the crafty animal had been alarmed at the violence . of my previous anger, and forebore to present itself in my present mood. It is impossible to describe, or to imagine, the deep, the blissful sense of relief which the absence of the detested creature occasioned in my bosom. It did not make its appearance during the night - and . thus for one night at least, since its introduction into the house, I soundly and tranquilly slept; aye, slept even with the burden of murder upon my soul!

The second and the third day passed, and still my tormentor came not. Once again I breathed as a freeman. The monster, in terror, had fled the premises forever! I should behold it no more! My happiness was supreme! The guilt of my dark deed disturbed me but little. Some few inquiries had been made, but these had been readily answered. Even a search had been instituted - but of course nothing was to be discovered. I looked upon my future felicity as secured.

Upon the fourth day of the assassination, a party of the police came, very unexpectedly, into the house, and proceeded again to make rigorous investigation of the premises. Secure, however, in the inscrutability of my place . of concealment, I felt no embarrassment whatever. The officers bade me accompany them in their search. They left no nook or corner unexplored. At length, for the third or fourth time, they descended into the cellar. I quivered not in a muscle. My heart beat calmly as that of one who slumbers in innocence. I walked the cellar from end to end. I folded my arms upon my bosom, and roamed easily to and fro. The police were thoroughly satisfied and prepared to depart. The glee at my heart was too strong to be restrained. I burned to say if but one word, by way of triumph, and to render doubly sure their assurance of my guiltlessness.

"Gentlemen," I said at last, as the party ascended the steps, "I delight to have allayed your suspicions. I wish you all health, and a little more courtesy. By the bye, gentlemen, this - this is a very well constructed house." [In the rabid desire to say something easily, I scarcely knew what I uttered at all.] - "I may say an excellently well constructed house. These walls are you going, gentlemen? - these walls are solidly put together;" and here, through the mere phrenzy of bravado, I rapped heavily, with a cane which I held in my hand, upon that very portion of the brick-work behind which stood the corpse of the wife of my bosom.

But may God shield and deliver me from the fangs of the Arch-Fiend ! No sooner had the reverberation of my blows sunk into silence, than I was answered by a voice from within the tomb! - by a cry, at first muffled and broken, like the sobbing of a child, and then quickly swelling into one long, loud, and continuous scream, utterly anomalous and inhuman - a howl - a wailing shriek, half of horror and half of triumph, such as might have arisen only out of hell, conjointly from the throats of the dammed in their agony and of the demons that exult in the damnation.

Of my own thoughts it is folly to speak. Swooning, I staggered to the opposite wall. For one instant the party upon the stairs remained motionless, through extremity of terror and of awe. In the next, a dozen stout arms were toiling at the wall. It fell bodily. The corpse, already greatly decayed and clotted . with gore, stood erect before the eyes of the spectators. Upon its head, with red extended mouth and solitary eye of fire, sat the hideous beast whose craft had seduced me into murder, and whose informing voice had consigned me to

What The Moon Saw
IT is a strange thing, when I feel most fervently and most deeply, my hands and my tongue seem alike tied, so that I cannot rightly describe or accurately portray the thoughts that are rising within me; and yet I am a painter; my eye tells me as much as that, and all my friends who have seen my sketches and fancies say the same.

I am . a poor lad, and live in one of the narrowest of lanes; but I do not want for light, as my room is high up in the house, with an extensive prospect over the neighbouring roofs. During the first few days I went to live in the town, I felt . low-spirited and solitary enough. Instead of the forest and the green hills of former days, I had here only a forest of chimney-pots to look out upon. And then I had not a single friend; not one familiar face greeted me.

So one evening I sat at the window, in a desponding mood; and presently I opened the casement and looked out. Oh, how my heart leaped up with joy! Here was a well-known face at last—a round, friendly countenance, the face of a good friend I had known at home. In, fact, it was the MOON that looked in upon me. He was quite unchanged, the dear old Moon, and had the same face exactly that he used to show when he peered down . upon me through the willow trees on the moor. I kissed my hand to him over and over again, as he shone far into my little room; and he, for his part, promised me that every evening, when he came abroad, he would look in upon me for a few . moments. This promise he has faithfully kept. It is a pity that he can only stay such a short time when he comes. Whenever he appears, he tells me of one thing or another that he has seen on the previous night, or on that same evening. “Just paint the scenes I describe to you”—this is what he said to me—“and you will have a very pretty picture-book.” I have followed his injunction for many evenings. I could make up a new “Thousand and One Nights,” in my own way, out of these pictures, but the number might be too great, after all. The pictures I have here given have not been chosen at random, but follow in their proper order, just as they were described to me. Some great gifted painter, or some poet or musician, may make something more of them if he likes; what I have given . here are only hasty sketches, hurriedly put upon the paper, with some of my own thoughts, interspersed; for the Moon did not come to me every evening— a cloud sometimes hid his face from me.
First Evening

“LAST night”—I am quoting the Moon’s own words—“last night I was gliding through the cloudless Indian sky. My face was mirrored in the waters of the Ganges, and my beams strove to pierce through the thick intertwining boughs of the bananas, arching beneath me like the tortoise’s shell. Forth from the thicket tripped a Hindoo maid, light as a gazelle, beautiful as Eve. Airy and etherial as a vision, and yet sharply defined amid the surrounding shadows, stood this daughter of Hindostan: I could read on her delicate brow the thought that had brought her hither. The thorny creeping plants tore her sandals, but for all that she came rapidly forward. The deer that had come down to the river to quench her thirst, sprang by with a startled bound, for in her hand the maiden bore a lighted lamp. I could see the blood in her delicate finger tips, as she spread them for a screen before the dancing flame. She came down to the stream, and set the lamp upon the water, and let it float away. The flame flickered to and fro, and seemed ready to expire; but still the lamp burned on, and the girl’s black sparkling eyes, half veiled behind their long silken lashes, followed it with a gaze of earnest intensity. She knew that if the lamp continued to burn so long as she could keep it in sight, her betrothed was still alive; but if the lamp was suddenly extinguished, he was dead. And the lamp burned bravely on, and she fell on her knees, and prayed. Near her in the grass lay a speckled snake, but she heeded it not—she thought only of Bramah and of her betrothed. ‘He lives!’ she shouted joyfully, ‘he lives!’ And from the mountains the echo came back upon her, ‘he lives!’”
Second . Evening

“YESTERDAY,” said the Moon to me, “I looked down upon a small courtyard surrounded on all sides by houses. In the courtyard sat a clucking hen with eleven chickens; and a pretty little girl was running and jumping around them. The hen was frightened, and screamed, and spread out her wings over the little brood. Then the girl’s father came out and scolded her; and I glided away and thought no more of the matter.

“But this evening, only a few minutes ago, I looked down into the same courtyard. Everything was quiet. But presently the little girl came forth again, crept quietly to the hen-house, pushed back the bolt, and slipped into the apartment of the hen and chickens. They cried out loudly, and came fluttering down from their perches, and ran about in dismay, and the little girl ran after them. I saw it quite plainly, for I looked through a hole in the hen-house wall. I was angry with the willful child, and felt glad when her father came out and scolded her more violently than yesterday, holding her roughly by the arm; she held down her head, and her blue eyes were full of large tears. ‘What are you about here?’ he asked. She wept and said, ‘I wanted to kiss the hen and beg her pardon for frightening her yesterday; but I was afraid to tell you.’

“And the father kissed the innocent child’s forehead, and I kissed her on the mouth and eyes.”
Third Evening

“IN the narrow street round the corner yonder—it is so narrow that my beams can only glide for a minute along the walls of the house, but in that minute I see . enough to learn what the world is made of—in that narrow street I saw a woman. Sixteen years ago that woman was a child, playing in the garden of the old parsonage, in the country. The hedges of rose-bush were old, and the flowers were faded. They straggled wild over the paths, and the ragged branches grew up among the boughs of the apple trees; here and there were a few roses still in bloom—not so fair as the queen of flowers generally appears, but still they had colour and scent too. The clergyman’s little daughter appeared to me a far lovelier rose, as she sat on her stool under the straggling hedge, hugging and caressing her doll with the battered pasteboard cheeks.

“Ten years afterwards I saw her again. I beheld her in a splendid ballroom: she was the beautiful bride of a rich merchant. I rejoiced at her happiness, and sought her on calm quiet evenings— ah, nobody thinks of my clear eye and my silent glance! Alas! my rose ran wild, like the rose bushes in the garden of the parsonage. There are tragedies in every-day life, and tonight I saw the last act of one.

“She was lying in bed in a house in that narrow street: she was sick unto death, and the cruel landlord came up, and tore away the thin coverlet, her only protection against the cold. ‘Get up!’ said he; ‘your face is enough to frighten one. Get up and dress yourself, give me money, or I’ll turn you out into the street! Quick—get up!’ She answered, ‘Alas! death is gnawing at my heart. Let me rest.’ But he forced her to get up and bathe her face, and put a wreath of roses in her hair; and he placed her in a chair at the window, with a candle burning beside her, and went away.

“I looked at her, and she was sitting motionless, with her hands in her lap. The wind caught the open window and shut it with a crash, so that a pane came clattering down in fragments; but still she never moved. The curtain caught fire, and the flames played about her face; and I saw that she was dead. There at the open window sat the dead woman, preaching a sermon against sin—my poor faded rose out of the parsonage garden!”
Fourth Evening

“THIS evening I saw a German play acted,” said the Moon. “It was in a little town. A stable had been turned into a theatre; that is to say, the stable had been left standing, and had been turned into private boxes, and all the timber work had been covered with coloured paper. A little iron chandelier hung beneath the ceiling, and that it might be made to disappear into the ceiling, as it does in great theatres, when the ting-ting of the prompter’s bell is heard, a great inverted tub has been placed just above it.

“ ‘Ting-ting!’ and the little iron chandelier suddenly rose at least half a yard and disappeared in the tub; and that was the sign that the play was going to begin. A young nobleman and his lady, who happened to be passing through the little town, were present at the performance, and consequently the house was crowded. But under the chandelier was a vacant space like a little crater: not a single soul sat there, for the tallow was dropping, drip, drip! I saw everything, for it was so warm in there that every loophole had been opened. The male and female servants stood outside, peeping through the chinks, although a real policeman was inside, threatening them with a stick. Close by the orchestra could be seen the noble young couple in two old arm-chairs, which were usually occupied by his worship the mayor and his lady; but these latter were to-day obliged to content themselves with wooden forms, just as if they had been ordinary citizens; and the lady observed quietly to herself, ‘One sees, now, that there is rank above rank;’ and this incident gave an air of extra festivity to the whole proceedings. The chandelier gave little leaps, the crowd got their knuckles rapped, and I, the Moon, was present at the performance from beginning to end.”
Fifth Evening

Buhur Dağı ile Kınalı Ceylan

Bir varmış, bir yokmuş... Bir vakitler, herkeslerin türlü savaşlardan sonra terkettiği bir viran şehrin yanında, bir dağ varmış... Bahar geldiğinde, eteklerine dağılmış binlerce kocayemiş, ıhlamur, amber ve mersin ağaçlarından yayılan baş döndürücü koku, tüm şehri tütsülermiş... Bu yüzden halk, Buhur Dağı ismini vermiş ona eskiden...

Dağ onca ağacına, çiçeğine, suyuna, taşına rağmen çok yalnızmış... Gün geceye durduğunda, gökyüzüne bakar, gördüğü her yıldıza bir türkü söylermiş... Efkarından pınarları ağlar, toprağı sızım sızım sızlarmış... istermiş ki rüyaları gerçek olsun, gönlüne göre bir yareni olsun, koynunda uyuyup koynunda uyansın, dağ daha bir dağ olsun, sevda daha bir sevda olsun.

Yine öyle gecelerden bir gece, kaldırmış başını göğe, haykırıyormuş türküsünü ki; birden, bir hışırtı duymuş... Bakmış ki güzeller güzeli kınalı bir ceylan durur karşısında... Durur da öylece süzer nazlı gözlerini ona doğru... Buhur Dağı'nın kalbine kor ateşler düşmüş, heyecanla sarsılmış gövdesi... Dile gelmiş de seslenmiş bir bakışta vurulduğu Kınalı Ceylan'a...

"işte nicedir beklediğim, nicedir düşlediğim yarim geldi, umudum, ışığım, sevincim geldi, hoş geldi... Yaklaş maralım, daha da yaklaş ki yakından göreyim güzelliğini."

Ceylan ürkek, ceylan telaşlı, ardına bile bakmadan, seke seke gözden kaybolmuş sessizce... Sinmiş uzaktaki bir ağacın gölgesine, derdini dillendirmiş kendince:

"Sesini duydum uzak diyarlardan, yaktığın türkülerde anlattığın bendim koca dağ, Buhur Dağı!... Sesine sevdalandım da buldum seni, yüreğine sevdalandım da sevdim seni. Ne var ki ben bir yaralı ceylan, sana ne hayrım olur ki, sana verecek neyim var ki. Geldim, gördüm, bildim seni... Fakat benim daha gidecek yolum, çekecek çilem var."

Rüzgarlar Kınalı Ceylan'ın sedasını taşıdığında Buhur Dağı'na, kara bulutlar çökmüş zirvesine... Dağ öfkeli, dağ kırgın, adeta kükrer gibi söylemiş merdıbını:

"Duydum seni kınalım, duydum da duymasına, hem kendini gösterir hem de neden kaçarsın? Her gece seni söyledim ezgilerimde, seni yazdım gökyüzüne. Uçan kuşun kanadında, çağlayan nehirlerin nefesinde, tan yerinde şavkıyan seherlerde, yağmurların buğusunda aradım izini. Önce bana görün, sonra bırak git diye mi? Hemen şimdi dönesin bana geri, ya da ilelebet kanasın yaran; öyle ki kımıldayamayasın, öyle ki bir yudum su içmeye kalkamayasın çöküp kaldığın yerden!"

Ceylanın küçücük yüreği burkulmuş acıyla... Korka korka dağın hışmından, seslenmiş ona titreyen sesiyle:

"Nedir bu hiddetin, feryadın? Nedir bu halden sual etmez gazabın?... 'Zaman' dedikleri bir ilaç varmış, ben daha yollara düşüp onu bulacağım, yaramı onunla sarıp bekleyeceğim iyileşmeyi... Sende kalırsam şu halimle; sana acıdan, tasadan başka bir şey veremem. Sen bir yüce dağsın, sabır taşlarıyla döşeli bayırların... Beni sen de anlamazsan, kimler anlasın?"

Dağ küsmüş, ceylan boynu bükük; vurmuş kendini yollara... Bağrında Buhur Dağı'nın hasreti, vuslata ömrü yetsin diye dualar ederek Yaradan'ına, gözden kaybolup, gitmiş uzaklara...

Buhur Dağı fısıldamış ardından:

" Bekleyeceğim seni maralım, taşım üstünde taş kalmayıncaya, toprağımda tek bir ot bitmeyinceye değin... "

Ay güneşi, güneş ayı kovalamış durmuş, mevsimler mevsimlere, yıllar yıllara kavuşmuş... Diyar diyar gezmiş ceylan, deva bildiği mahir zaman iyileştirirken yarasını, Buhur Dağı'nın içli sesi, gönlünün mabedinden bir an olsun silinmemiş... Kızıl kınalı başını semaya kaldırıp da sevdasının ve sevdalısının sırrına erdiği yalnız gecelerinde, her bir yıldızdan yüreğine yansıyan ışık, yarinin kendisine adadığı türkülerinin giziymiş...

(Masalcı tam da öyle bir anda, sesini verivermiş masala... )

"Gecedir; ayrı düşmüş sevgililerin elzemi hasretleri göğsünde emziren... Gecedir; tek yürekte iki taşkın nehir gibi coşan, ikiyi bir kılan, biri ikiye bölen sevdaların beşiği... Ömür denilen ise ahu gözlü ceylanın kirpiğinde kanat çırpması kadar bir kelebeğin... Ceylan fani, dağ fani... Geldi vakti saati... Düştü ceylan sevdasının, sevdalısının yollarına... "

Günler birbiri ardına inci gibi dizilirken, hiç durmadan koşmuş ceylan... Ayaklarında dermanı kalmamış, acıkmış, susamış... Bir an olsun durmamış, Buhur Dağı'nın billur ırmaklarının suyuymuş susadığı, Buhur Dağı'nın kaynağıyla besleyip büyüttüğü ağaçların yemişleriymiş acıktığı... Derman, Buhur Dağı'nın koynundaymış.

Birbirlerini gördükleri ilk andaki kadar ışıltılı ve sakin bir gece, Kınalı Ceylan varmış yarinin eteklerine... Nice soğuk iklimlerden sıcak iklimlere değin yolunu gözlediği ceylanını, gelişinden bilmiş Buhur Dağı... Seslenmiş usulca:

"Ey kınalım, ey güzeller güzeli ceylanım, döndün demek sonunda bana... iyileşti mi yaran? Buldun mu çareni; bir su damlası gibi akıp gittiğin, bir kum tanesi gibi savrulduğun yollarda? Senin gönlümü kasıp kavuran hasretin, ehramı oldu ağaçlarımın, çiçeklerimin; tohumlar bile çatlayamadan küle döndü toprağımda... Vardın geldin ama; şimdi benim sana verecek neyim var; susuzluğunu gidereceğin bir pınarım bile yok ki; kuruyup gitti hepsi, acıktıysan seni neyle doyurayım; sabır taşlarımda biten otlarla kanmazsın ki açlığına."

Ceylan bitkin; tırmanırken dağın yamacına, devrilivermiş bedeni kurumuş dalların arasına, küçücük kınalı başını vurmuş kocaman bir taşa... Son mecaliyle konuşmaya çalışırken, şu kelimeler dökülmüş dilinden:

"Sar beni Buhur Dağı'm... Sar beni yazgım olan; canım tenimden çıkmadan beni sana kavuşturan sevdan ile... Toprağından kanıma aksın ölüm, kanımdan toprağına aksın dirim, hasretinle yaktığın çiçeğin, ağacın, kanımla hayat bulsun yeniden. Ben sana karışayım, sende son bulup, sende doğayım... Bak şu kızıl yıldız var ya; işte o benim yıldızımdır. Ona söyleyerek şimdi en güzel türkünü, kollarında uyut beni güzel sesinle... "

Ve canını teslim etmiş ceylan oracıkta, nazlı gözleri kapanırken düşen iki damla yaş; yuvarlanıp dağın iyi yanına, iki ayrı ırmağa dönüşürken...

Buhur Dağı, tüm acılardan da büyük bir acıyla öyle sarsılmış, öyle inlemiş ki, gökyüzü yırtılmış sesinden, şimşekler çakmış, simsiyah bir yıldırım düşmüş zirvesine; ikiye bölmüş koca dağı...

O geceden sonra mevsim ne vakit bahara dönse, Buhur Dağı'nın ikiye ayrıldığı, Kınalı Ceylan'ın gözyaşlarından oluşan iki ırmağın kavuştuğu yerde kızıl bir gonca gül bitermiş. Açıp da yaprağını, kokusunu yele verdiğinde yıldızlı gecelerde; kimselerin duymadığı, kimselerin bilmediği bir türkü yankılanırmış o vadinin en kuytu yerinde...

Gölgesiyle Yarışan Tay

At yarışlarının yapıldığı şehir hipodromu çok kalabalıktı. Tribünler tıklım tıklım doluydu. Her pazar günü olduğu gibi bu pazar da birinci olana büyük ikramiyenin verildiği yarışlar yapılacaktı. Birincilik için en büyük aday Kara Bomba isimli attı. iki yıla yakın bir zamandır bu şehirde yapılan yarışmaların tek ve mutlak hakimiydi. Simsiyah rengi, kocaman gözleri ve dev gibi uzun boyuyla o her zaman atların en irisiydi. Daha uzun bir süre birinciliği kaptırmayacağı tahmin ediliyordu.

Diğer yarışmacı atlar ise Fırtına, Ak kız, Pençe, Sürpriz, Zorlu, Tavşan ve Yekta idi. Yekta, böyle bir yarışa ilk defa katılıyordu, oldukça heyecanlıydı. Gerçi yetiştirildiği yarış atı çiftliğinde çok iyi hazırlanmıştı, fakat genç ve tecrübesiz oluşu onu korkutuyordu. Ya birinci olamazsa?..Böyle bir şeyi düşünmek bile istemiyordu.O zaman, sıradan bir yarış atı durumuna düşecek ve belki bu durum hep böyle sürüp gidecekti. Bin bir çeşit yarış hilelerinin yapıldığı, düzenin ve entrikanın bol olduğu bu yarışlarda birinci olmak sadece süratli olmak ve dayanıklılık demek değildi. Mesela bazı yarışlarda Tavşan tavşanlık yapardı. Yarış başlar başlamaz öne geçer, temposunu gittikçe arttırır, atları yorar ve yarışı bırakırdı. Son düzlükte Kara Bomba yaptığı bir atakla birinciliği kazanırdı. Pençe isimli yarış atı Kara Bomba’nın diğer yardımcısıydı. Yarış sürerken form durumu yüksek olan atları kollar, onlara çarpar, önlerine geçip hızlarını azaltır ve Kara Bomba’nın yarışı kazanmasını sağlardı.

Atlar, düzenli olarak başlama yerinde sıralandılar. Start için tabanca sesi duyulur duyulmaz, sekiz tane güçlü yarış atı ileri atıldılar. Çıkışı çok kuvvetli olan Tavşan hemen öne geçti. Yekta tüm çabasına karşılık ikinci sırada kalmıştı.” Tüh be, Tavşan’ı kaçırdım!..Bu Tavşan’ı zaten son düzlüğe kadar kimse geçemezmiş. Yarışın ortasına gelmeden onu mutlaka geçmeliyim. Haydi Yekta, daha hızlı, daha hızlı…”

1500 startı geçildiğinde Tavşan ikinci durumdaki Yekta’nın üç boy kadar önündeydi. “ Bomba nerelerde ki, dönüp bakmalı. Tavşan bu süratiyle yarışı tamamlayamaz. Vay, Bomba hemen arkamdaymış! Ne oluyor ya, ne dümen çeviriyor bunlar? Son düzlüğe kadar orta sıralarda saklanırmış bu. Benden huylandılar muhakkak. “

Yarışın ortası:1000 startı geçilirken, Tavşan isimli yarış atı aniden koşu pistinin kenarına çıktı ve yarışı bıraktı. Yekta süratle onun yanından geçti ve birinci duruma yükseldi. Fakat yarışın bitmesine 1000 metre vardı ve Kara Bomba, Yekta ile arasındaki farkı gitgide kapatmaktaydı.

Son düzlüğe ( son 500 metre ) Yekta ile Kara Bomba başa baş girdiler. Nefesleri kesen bir mücadeleden sonra bitişe 100 metre kala başlayan Yekta’nın öldürücü deparları yarışı iki boy farkla kazanmasını sağladı. Yekta mutluydu artık çünkü ilk yarışını zor da olsa birinci olarak bitirmeyi başarmıştı. Yekta, Kara Bomba ve ekibiyle birçok defalar daha yarıştı. Girdiği her yarışta birinci oldu. Artık bu şehir ona dar gelmeye başlamıştı. Dışa açılmalı, adını daha geniş çevrelere duyurmalı ve daha büyük yarışlar kazanmalıydı. Nitekim girdiği bölge birinciliği koşusunu da kazanınca, bir ay sonra yapılacak olan ülke şampiyonluğu yarışına katılmak için antrenmanlarını daha da sıklaştırdı.

Hazırlandığı yarış atı çiftliğinde birçok yarış atı Yekta’ya değişik zamanlarda katıldıkları yarışmaları anlattılar. Yekta, onları büyük bir dikkatle dinledi. Görgüsünü, bilgisini arttırdı. Yekta’ya göre, bilmenin, öğrenmenin sonu yoktu. Her yeni bilgi yeni bir şeyler öğretirdi. Önemli olan öğrendiklerine kendi düşüncelerinden yeni fikirler katarak “ özgün bilgi “ elde edebilmekti. Doğru düşünebilmek ancak kendini çok iyi tanımakla mümkün olabilirdi. Bu da kişisel erdem için gerekli olan “ oto kontrol “ yani kendi kendini kontrol etme yeteneğini sağlardı. Oto kontrol yeteneğinin düzenli olması, mükemmellik sınırlarını zorlardı.

Günler günleri kovaladı. Her geçen gün Yekta’nın gücüne güç katıyordu. Gittikçe daha süratli koşmaya ve mesafeleri daha kısa zamanda aşmaya başlamıştı. Büyük yarışa yedi gün kalmıştı. Öğleden sonra özel olarak hazırlanmış kamyona Yekta’yı bindirdiler. Kamyon, biraz sonra ülkenin en büyük şehrine gitmek üzere yola çıktı. Yolun yarısı geçilmişti ki, kamyon büyük bir gürültüyle yol kenarındaki hendeğe yuvarlandı. Sonra derin bir sessizlik. Yekta’ya şans eseri bir şey olmamıştı. Kapısının açılmasını bekledi. Gelen giden yoktu. Uzun bir süre uğraştıktan sonra kapının kilidini kırmayı başardı. Korkuyla dışarı fırladı. Yola çıktı. Çok uzaklarda tek tük ışıklar görünür gibi oluyordu. Yarışın yapılacağı yer oralarda olmalıydı. Kamyon olmasa da olurdu. Kendi başıma da olsam oraya varabilirim, diye düşündü. Koşmaya başladı. Koştu…Koştu…

Aradan bir saatten fazla zaman geçti. Hava kararmaya, Yekta, şaşırmaya başladı. Ne oluyordu? Neden ortalık hep aydınlık kalmıyordu? Karanlık kadar anlamsız şey var mıydı? Şaşırmakta haklıydı. Gündüzleri açık havada antrenman yapar, hava kararmadan içeriye girerdi. içerde de ışıklar gece gündüz yanardı. O, şimdiye kadar karanlıkta hiç kalmamıştı. Yekta ay ışığı altında, yavaş bir tempo tutturmuş olarak kilometrelerce koştuktan sonra birden ürperdi. Sol tarafında bir karartı vardı ve kendisini geçmeye çalışıyordu. Hızla başını çevirdi. Bir at !..

Yekta:

“ Kim ola ki? Nereden çıktı birdenbire? Neyse kim olduğu beni ilgilendirmez. Önemli olan beni geçmek üzere olması. işte buna izin vermem!..Şimdiye kadar kimse bana toz yutturamadı. Tempoyu biraz arttırayım, bakalım ne yapacak? “ diye düşündü. Yekta’nın gölgesini geçmek için verdiği uğraş bütün bir gece boyu devam etti. Sabaha karşı karanlık yerini aydınlığa bırakırken Yekta’nın gölgesi silinip gitti. Bir aralık kafasını sol tarafına çeviren Yekta onu göremedi. Sağına baktı, yine yok. Arkasına baktı, gerilere daha gerilere baktı. Rakibinin olağanüstü tempoya ayak uyduramayıp yarışı bıraktığını zannetti. Hızını yavaş yavaş azalttı.

Yekta hafif bir tempo ile koşmaya bir saat kadar daha devam etti. Yarışın yapılacağı şehrin işte ilk evleri gözükmeye başlamıştı. Yekta yolda rastladığı bir sütçü beygirine at yarışlarının yapılacağı hipodromun nerede olduğunu sordu. Tarif edildiği üzere yoluna devam etti. Göğsü gururla kabarmış olarak, başı dimdik vaziyette, şehrin ana caddesinden geçerken arabalar durmuştu ve yol kenarındaki insanlar gazetelerde, dergilerde birçok defalar resmini gördükleri, hakkında yazılan yazıları okudukları bu şahane tayı çılgınca alkışlıyorlardı. Hipodromun kapısının açık olmasından yararlanan Yekta, içeriye girdi. Biraz sonra koşu pistine çıkmıştı. Altı gün sonraki ülke birinciliği koşusu burada yapılacaktı. Ağır adımlarla koşu pistinde tur atan Yekta o yarışta birinci olmayı düşünüyordu mutlaka.

Yekta’yı getiren kamyonun devrildiğini haber alan sahibi olay yerine gelmişti. Sürücü ile seyis yaralı olarak hastaneye kaldırıldılar. Yekta’nın sahibi sabah olunca Yekta’yı aramaya koyuldu ve onun hipodroma geldiğini haber alınca oraya gitti. Hipodromun kapısından içeriye giren Yekta’nın sahibi Yekta’yı koşu pistinde ağır adımlarla koşarken görünce “ Yekta… Yekta…”diye bağırarak piste fırladı. Hızla koşarak Yekta’ya yetişti ve onun boynuna sarıldı. Yekta neden sonra durumun farkına vardı. Sahibi onu bu yabancı şehirde aramış ve bulmuştu.
Yekta’nın sahibi Yekta’yı bir arkadaşının yarış atı çiftliğine zütürdü. Yorgun durumdaki Yekta o günü ve ertesi günü dinlenerek geçirdi. Daha sonra koşu antrenmanlarına başlayan Yekta üç gün içinde eskisinden daha iyi bir form tuttu. Artık hazırdı ve birincilik için en şanslı kendisini görüyordu.

Yekta yarış günü kasırga gibi esti. Daha ilk metrelerde yaptığı korkunç atakla öne geçti. Çılgın gibi koşuyordu. Ülkenin en iyi yarış atları onun sürati karşısında çaresiz kalmışlardı. Açık farkla ve rekor bir dereceyle yarışı birinci olarak bitirdi. Bu birincilik onun pratik ile teoriyi en iyi şekilde birleştirmesiyle oluşmuştu. Sonuç olarak mükemmele ulaşmış ve geçilmez ünvanına sahip olmuştu

Uçan Kasaba

Bir varmış, bir yokmuş... Zamanın birinde bir masal kasabası varmış. Bu kasaba dağların arasında bir yerdeymiş. Buradaki dağlar öyle dik öyle dikmiş ki bir noktadan, bir başka yere gitmeye olanak vermezmiş. Bu yüzden kasabada hiçbir yol yokmuş. Zaten buranın adı da Yolsuz kasabaymış.

Yolun ne olduğunu bilmeyen kasaba insanları birbirine gidip gelemiyormuş. Doğal olarak bu durum çeşitli sorunlara neden oluyormuş. Bu yüzden akrabalar görüşemiyor, hısımlar buluşamıyor, insanlar tanışamıyormuş. Ne kötü değil mi?

Kasabalılar, birbirlerine gidip gelme işini zamanla çözmüşler. Nasıl mı? Tabii ki uçarak...

Herkes kendine göre bir uçma aracı geliştirmiş zaman içinde. Kasabalıların kimi çalı süpürgesiyle, kimi yabasına binerek uçuyormuş. En çok da halı kullanılıyormuş uçma eyleminde. Evdeki eski halılar bu iş için yeterli oluyormuş tabii ki.

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Gel zaman, git zaman... Uçmak, bizim Yolsuz kasabalılar için bir yaşam biçimi hâline gelmiş. Daha önceleri sonbaharda yaptıkları bağ bozumu şenliklerinin adını ve şeklini bile değiştirmişler. Bundan böyle bu eğlenceler, Uçuş Festivali olarak düzenlenmeye başlamış.

Uçuş Festivalinde herkes, aracını alıp meydana çıkıyor ve uçma yarışmaları yapılıyormuş. Zaman içinde Uçma Festivali çok gelişmiş. Seyircisi çoğalmış. Dereceye girenlere büyük ödüller konmuş. Bu yüzden kasabalılar, her yıl festival günlerini iple çekiyorlarmış.

Yıllardan bir yılda yine festival günleri gelip çatmış. Kasabalılar heyecan içinde hazırlıklara başlamışlar. Uçuş için çalı süpürgesi kullananlar, süpürgelerinin çalılarını yenilemiş; yaba kullananlar, yeni bir yaba yapmış; halı kullananlar, halılarının yırtıklarını örerek yamamış. Artık herkes büyük güne hazırmış.

Bizim Yolsuz kasabada kimsesiz bir oğlancık yaşıyormuş. Yok yok, bu oğlancık sizin sandığınız gibi kel değilmiş. Aksine tepesinde gür saçları varmış onun.
Bizim gür saçlı oğlan hayalperest biriymiş. Bu yüzden kitaplığında onlarca uzay, macera ve hayal romanı varmış. Bizimki gece, gündüz onları okur olmadık şeylere kafa yorarmış.

O yıl gür saçlı oğlan da yaklaşan Uçma Festivalini bekliyormuş. O da yarışmalara katılacakmış. Ancak onun ne çalı süpürgesi, ne yabası, ne de halısı varmış. Buna karşın hiçbir telâşı da yokmuş. Çünkü düşündüğü ilginç bir şey varmış ama ne?...

Arkadaşları da merak ediyorlarmış gür saçlı oğlanın ne yapacağını:
-Ne ile uçacaksın? Ortalıkta hiçbir araç göremiyoruz, diyorlarmış.
Gür saçlı oğlan kıs kıs gülüyor:

- O gün görürsünüz, diyormuş.

Sonunda beklenen gün gelmiş. insanlar, festivalin başlayacağı saatlerde kasaba meydanına gelmişler. Yarışmaya katılacak olanların yanlarında uçuş araçları hazırmış.

Kasaba yöneticisi kısa bir konuşma yapıp festivali başlatmış. Sonra.

- Uçma yarışlarına katılacak olanlar uçuş pistinde sıralansın, demiş.
Yarışmacılar kalabalıktan ayrılıp ileri çıkmışlar. Kimileri halısını yere serip üzerine oturmuş; kimileri de yaba ve çalı süpürgelerinin saplarına, ata biner gibi binmişler. Yarışmacıların en sonunda bizim gür saçlı oğlan varmış. Doğal olarak onun yanında hiçbir şey yokmuş.

izleyenler, gür saçlı oğlanın bu hâline bakıp şaşırmışlar. Kasaba yöneticisi de merak içindeymiş:

- Evlâdım sen de mi yarışmacısın, diye sormadan edememiş.

Gür saçlı oğlancık kendinden emin bir şekilde:

- Evet, ben de yarışacağım, diye karşılık vermiş

Kasaba yöneticisinin şaşkınlığı daha da artmış:

- Yanında herhangi bir araç göremiyorum. Neden, diye sormuş.
Gür saçlı oğlancık, yöneticiye yanıt vermemiş. Aşağı eğilip oralardaki bir dal parçasını eline almış, onunla çevresine bir metre çapında bir daire çizmiş.
Kasabalılar gibi yönetici de ilgiyle izliyormuş onu:

- O da ne, diye sormuş.

- Uçan daire, diye yanıtlamış gür saçlı çocuk.

- Onunla mı uçacaksın?

- Bütün uzaylılar bununla uçuyor.

- Ama burası uzay değil, biz de uzaylı değiliz.

- Yanılıyorsunuz, burası uzay, biz de uzaylıyız. Örneğin marslılar da bize uzaylı diyorlarmış.

Gür saçlı oğlancığın son sözleri herkesi güldürmüş. Çaresiz yönetici de başını iki yana sallayarak işine dönmüş. Yanında getirdiği kafesi yukarı kaldırmış. Kafesin kapağını açıp içindeki kerkenez kuşunu dışarı çıkarmış. Onu yarışçılara gösterip:

- Bunu yakalayıp bana getiren yarışı kazanıyor, demiş.

Kerkenez kuşunu bulutlara doğru savuran yönetici yarışçılara dönüp:

- Bir, iki, üç, demiş. Fırlayın, yarış başladı.

Bir anda ortalık karışmış. Halılar altlarındaki tozları savura savura havalanmış, yaba ve süpürgeler yukarı fırlamış. Ya bizim gür saçlı oğlancık?...

Gür saçlı oğlancığın hâlini hiç sormayın. Ortalıktaki toz, duman sıyrılınca kasabalılar onu dairesinin üzerinde oturuyor olarak görmüşler. Şaşkın bir hâldeymiş.

- Allah Allah neden uçmadı benim dairem, diye mırıldanıyormuş. Oysa bütün uzaylılar uçmak için daire kullanıyordu. Romanlar öyle yazıyor...

Yolsuz kasaba kahkahalarla çınlarken bizim gür saçlı oğlancık mahcubiyet içinde evine kaçmış. Bir daha da daireye binip uçmaya kalkışmamış. Bu iş için evdeki halıyı kullanmış.