How the Chimneysweep Got the Ear of the Emperor
adapted from "Two Little Tales" by Mark Twain

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. Within a day he was attacked by that fell disease himself. The news flew from mouth to mouth, and carried consternation with it over all the land.
Tommy was sixteen and a bright lad, but he was not in society. His rank was too humble for that, and his employment too base. In fact, it was the lowest of all employments, for he was second in command to his father, who emptied cesspools 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 bedridden mother by his dangerous and unpleasant trade.
About a month after the Emperor fell ill, these two lads met one evening about nine. They sat down on the curbstone to talk; and of course it was upon the one subject—the nation's calamity, the Emperor's disorder. Jimmy was full of a great project, and burning to unfold it. He said:
"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."
"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 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."
The next moment the chimney-sweep's word to the Emperor was on its way.
The next evening, toward midnight, the doctors sat whispering together in the imperial sick-room, and they were in deep trouble, for the Emperor was in very bad case. They 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 portiére1 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 tiptoed his way to his dear and worshiped friend the Master, who said:
"Only you can persuade him, my child, 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 watermelon.
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.